hit after hit, hating what I have to do.
They’re all dead. Now I have no one.
They’re all dead. Now I have no one.
I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.
I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.
They want me to be scared of them, so I’ll play the part. I can use that to my advantage.
They’re terrified of me, and that’s good. I’m going to need that fear to survive this.
The plane descends and lands with a loud thump that shakes the cargo hold, but I keep the sick feelings at bay. I hope that bastard’s here.
I hear the plane land and I know it’s almost time. I hope it’s him this time and not just another shipment.
He’s the reason I’m shackled and beaten. Used and degraded. I won’t stop fighting to breathe until I have my revenge.
He’s my chance at redemption and a new life. I’m not gonna lay down and die; I’m making a name for myself.
They keep saying I’m a good girl.
They think I’m a bad boy.
None of them really know who I am.
None of them really know who I am.
They can keep calling me a good girl though, right up until the moment I slit their throats.
Kane
My fist slams against the bag. I see my uncle’s face. I throw a right hook. Next, a left jab. Over and over I slam my fists into the leather until my muscles scream with pain. And then I push myself harder. I feel my knuckles crack under the weight of my hits. The sound of my fists making contact with the heavy bag doesn’t do anything to relieve this tension, though. I want to hear the crunch of his jaw. Fucking rat. That coward destroyed my family, and ruined my life. And I can’t do shit about it. I can’t turn back time.
I hit the bag again and again, trying to get this weight that’s crushing my chest to leave me. I hear my father’s voice, the screech of the tires. The gunshots. I grab the bag and slow my racing heart. A deep breath fills my lungs, but it only serves to fuel my anger further. They hunted us all down because of my fucking coward uncle. And I can’t do shit to change any of that.
“Kane!” Marco shouts; his voice echoes in the empty room. I hear the door swing shut and his boots smack against the concrete floor of the warehouse. I wipe the sweat off my face.
I needed to get out some aggression, but I have to be presentable for the meet, so I grab the towel on the pile of boxes next to me and wipe down quickly. I hear Marco walk toward me as I pick up my shirt and slip it on. I button it up, concentrating on keeping my anger at bay. Aggression would not be good right now. Not when I’m on my own, completely outnumbered, and about to meet the new boss of the Marzano Cartel.
Abram Petrov. He's become notorious for taking over the industry quickly, and with lethal force. Recently he's acquired the lead cartel in Mexico as well as heavy hitters in France and Russia, where he’s from. He’s a new force that’s not scared to play dirty, and now he’s on my doorstep.
“I’m ready!” I yell over my shoulder, and stalk toward him. Time to meet the new famila, or Bratva as the Russian fucks keep calling it. Or whatever the fuck he calls his crew. I have to try to earn a position with a mob that’s willing to take in the nephew of a rat. I swallow thickly. I’ve been waiting for a few weeks for this meet-up, staying in the warehouse and lying low with a target on my back. This place used to be a safe house for my family. Now it’s my bargaining chip to get the attention of Petrov.
His crew came and set up yesterday, but I kept my distance. They know it’s my place and they came to do business here, which is great. But I’m not a part of their crew. I’d rather give them the space they want and a warm welcome without getting involved in their shit. I can’t fuck this up.
“This is gonna be great. I know it will.” Marco grins at me and slaps his hand on my back. His arm has to reach up to hit me square on my shoulders. I’m six-foot-five and all muscle. Next to Marco I look