Six

I stood at a distance, hands buried in my pockets, watching the warehouse.

It was one of Francesco’s spots. Technically, it belonged to the Falcones, but Francesco was in charge. It was quiet, remote, and easy to overlook if you didn’t know what went on inside.

Drugs were cooked, packaged, and moved from that place. He was proud of it. Ran it like it was his crown jewel. Tonight, there were only a couple of guards pacing around. They had no idea what was about to hit them.

I shifted my weight and took a drag from my cigarette. The two men beside me stayed silent. They knew the...