Adriano
While Laurie was in the hospital for four agonizingly long days, I had the bedroom stripped, repainted, and new carpets laid. I also got a brand new bed and bedding. I didn’t want anything that would remind her of Marco in the room.
The past two days she’s been home, I only left her side when something absolutely important needed to be taken care of. Remo’s really stepped up, taking the helm while I’ve been otherwise occupied.
Even though I know things have to return to normal, it’s difficult.
The itch when I’m away from Laurie is unbearable at times, like right now while we’re on our way to nip the problem of the opposing families in the butt.
It’s already taking up too much time, which my impatient ass hates with a vengeance.
All five capos came together for today. Well, Rosie is in her fortress, making sure the area is clear and we don’t get ambushed, in case we underestimated the fuckers. Which I doubt, but rather safe than sorry.
The instant our convoy comes to a skidding stop at the address Rosie gave us, I glance over the abandoned factory where the enemy is currently meeting.
“Time to show everyone why you don’t fuck with the Cosa Nostra,” I growl, shoving my door open and lunging out of the SUV.
With my gun already in my hand, I stalk toward the main door while our men pour from the other vehicles.
Georgi and Augusto quickly catch up to me, and as some of our men run toward the sides of the building, we head straight for the entrance.
Little Ricky and Lorenzo, Augusto’s ride-or-die, go in first with more of our men, and gunshots quickly fill the air.
By the time I step inside, I see someone shot one of the enemies’ soldiers right in the face, and another soldier has two bullets to his chest.
More shots rip through crates and metal shelving while the opposing soldiers scramble for cover, trying to return fire fast enough to stop the wave of men tearing through the warehouse. There’s not a snowball's chance in hell of that happening.
There are only a handful of soldiers to protect the four opposing heads, who all look shocked out of their fucking minds to see us.
“We brought an army to a fucking tea party,” I mutter, making Georgi chuckle.
One of their men runs from behind a forklift with an automatic rifle in his hands, spraying rounds wildly across the room, but the fucker has zero aim, and everyone trains their guns on him, riddling the idiot with bullets.
Another appears on the second-floor walkway above us, and Little Ricky shoots him right in the throat, then we watch as the body flips over the railing and crash onto the dusty concrete below.
Like I said. It’s a tea party. These assholes don’t have the know-how to take over the Cosa Nostra.
Our men sweep through the warehouse fast and organized, clearing corners, checking hiding places, and executing every armed man they find while the opposing four heads stand back-to-back, fear on their faces.
“You can’t even handle a little scuffle,” Christiano shouts as he comes up behind us. “How the fuck did you think you weregoing to take my family and me down and run the Cosa Nostra in our stead?”
Bianchi tries running for the back exit, but Little Ricky takes out his knee.
“Bring that fucker back here,” Christiano orders, and one of our men quickly drags Bianchi closer by the scuff of his collar.
“You wanted a seat of power, now’s your chance. Beat us in a fight, and you can take over control,” Christiano says while pointing at Bianchi, “I don’t know who’s getting the wounded asshole, but it ain’t me.” When he goes for Mancini, Augusto and I lunge at Bellandi and Rinaldi.
“Aww fuck,” Georgi mutters. “Guess I get the wounded and weak.”
The sound of fists breaking bones and painful grunts echo through the air for several minutes before I grow bored. I slam my gun into Rinaldi’s gut, filling him with lead, which spurs on the other heads to do the same.
When the four opposing heads lie dead and their blood pools around them, silence descends on the factory for a few seconds.
“Take photos of the bodies so we can send warnings out to the other families,” Christiano orders before turning around and heading out while grumbling, “What a fucking waste of manpower.”
I look at all the bodies scattered across the office floor and feel absolutely nothing as I follow my capo out of the warehouse.
“Don’t be late for the party,” Georgi shouts for all to hear.