wanting to pump poison into the area, or risk destabilizing their relationship with law enforcement.
The Donovans betrayed my family, broke off, and built their own empire off narcotics. Now they control nearly half the city.
So, yeah. Donovans and Millers aren’t friends at the best of times.
Last year, it got even more personal, though.
They murdered my grandfather. They shot him as he was leaving a supermarket of all places. Right in the street. He died on the curb, with bullet holes in his back. It was the spark I think both families had been waiting a long time for, and once long-simmering tensions finally erupted, the city went to war.
When it’s done, only one family will rule.
“You can stay in the car,” says Dad. “It’s too late to go back. We do this tonight.”
“All right,” I say. “If you think that’s best.”
“No, Matt, I don’t think that’s best. I wish you’d remembered your damn mask.”
“It was a mistake, okay?”
“Just … don’t do it again. I’ve got enough on my plate right now, I shouldn’t have to manage you, too.”
I can’t help but think, Isn’t that your job? Seeing as you’re, you know, my dad.
Dad pulls over, stopping down the street from the restaurant that’s a favorite meeting place for the Donovans. Sofia’s. It’s 11:00 p.m., so it’s closed. At least that’s a good thing. My family won’t be burning anyone alive tonight. This is about taking something away from the other side. Making a statement.
It’s the way things are done.
“You sure this is a good idea?” asks Luke. He’s gone pale. “We could try again tomorrow.”
“No, we do this tonight,” says Dad. “They won’t see him, the windows are blacked out.”
“Are you sure about that?” asks Tony.
“I just said I am.”
“There are probably security cameras up and down the street. Lie low, Matt. Just in case.”
Dad grips the steering wheel tight. I undo my seat belt and slide down the seat.
The three of them climb out of the car and go around to the back. I hear the trunk open. They reappear a few moments later, each one of them holding a Molotov cocktail. These aren’t the ones used in street warfare, though, these are the best of the best: thick bottles filled with powerful incendiary chemicals.
Dad holds up a lighter, and soon, the ends of each one burn bright.
And there they are, my family. Doing what they’re supposed to. I know there’s the stuff to make a fourth Molotov in the trunk, but obviously that’s not happening tonight.
I’m glad I “forgot” my mask. Dad being mad at me sucks, sure, but I don’t want any real part of what’s about to go down. Even though I’m here. Despite my best efforts to distance myself from this, I’m still an accessory.
All at once, the three of them hurl their Molotovs toward the restaurant’s large front window. Luke misses and hits the wall. There’s a huge fireball, smoke and sparks. Dad’s and Tony’s aim is true, and their bottles go crashing through the glass.
The three of them stand there for a moment, watching, as the fire spreads inside. It happens so fast, and soon, the whole place is alight. Torrents of black smoke stream out the windows. The trio calmly walks back to the car and climbs in. I pull my seat belt on as Dad plants his foot on the gas.
As we speed away, I watch the restaurant burn through the rearview mirror.
The scariest part is knowing the night isn’t over.
* * *
A cheer breaks out as soon as we step inside the bar.
I slink to the back of the crowded room and stand in the darkness. Tony goes up to my aunt first and kisses her on the cheek. Dad goes up to Grandma and starts talking to her in a low voice. She glances at me, and my blood goes cold. I really hope they aren’t talking about me and about what I did.
Or, more accurately, about what I failed to do.
Once we were sure we weren’t being followed, Dad drove us out of the city, to a meeting spot on a quiet stretch of road. An associate met us there, waiting inside Dad’s black bulletproof Mercedes. We swapped vehicles, then the four of us drove straight here. It’s a bar called Jimmy’s, and it’s a hangout for the city’s Miller-affiliated criminals. It’s sort of a home base for us.
I pull down on the cuff of my sleeve. Dad’s been meaning to take me shopping for a new suit,