“I know. We’re here, we’re on it.”

“About fucking time.”

Groaning, Vincent grabbed his son’s arm and dragged him across the street. Carmine resisted at first, but he was too exhausted to put up a fight. Vincent took him to where Corrado stood in the darkness, with Dean huddled against the wall at his feet.

Corrado shook his head. “You must not have any sense of self-preservation left.”

“Fuck my life,” Carmine said. “She’s worth dying for.”

“And what happens when you die?” Corrado gave him a pointed look. “Your carelessness is going to get her killed. You’re in the fold now. You need to start thinking like one of us.”

Carmine shot his father a panicked look. “Whatever, I need to save her, that’s what I need to do.” Frazzled, he motioned toward Dean. “Who’s this?”

“He’s a friend,” Corrado said. “Although he’s more of a friend to Nunzio, it seems.”

“Wait, he’s in on this?” Carmine rushed forward and grabbed Dean by the collar. “She better not be hurt! What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Dean said. “I haven’t seen her!”

“What the fuck do you mean you haven’t seen her?” Carmine snapped, slamming the boy against the building. “You took my girl from me, and I want her back!”

“He’s so much like you it’s disturbing,” Corrado said, glancing at Vincent as Carmine kicked Dean in the ribs.

“He’ll kill him,” Vincent warned.

Corrado grabbed Carmine, begrudgingly forcing him away. “Enough.”

Vincent helped Dean to his feet. “Where were you going?”

“Uh, food,” he said. “I was supposed to get food.”

The brush nearby ruffled. Carmine and Vincent reached for their weapons as a precaution, but Corrado didn’t move. He addressed the person without turning around. “Giovanni.”

“Corrado, Vincent,” Giovanni said, strolling up to them. “Nice to see you gentlemen again.”

Carmine looked at his uncle. “How did you know it was him?”

“I always know my surroundings,” Corrado said, his attention going back to Dean. “If you want me to show you any mercy, you’re going to walk inside and say you were jumped. Say some thugs stole your money and Squint’s keys. Understand?”

Dean staggered away as the four men positioned themselves beside the entrance. Vincent pulled his gun out as Carmine fidgeted, the tension coming from him intense. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you? I had to do it. I needed to find her. I need her to be okay.”

“I don’t see how throwing your life away helps anything, but now isn’t the time for this.” He needed to remain calm, and dwelling on what his son did would get him riled up again. “We’re going to go in here and end this, and no matter what we find, we’ll deal with it.”

Within a matter of seconds, the door burst open and a vaguely familiar Russian man with blond hair rushed out. He froze, raising his gun as Corrado and Giovanni ducked inside the building, but Vincent was faster. Aiming, Vincent fired off a round that hit him square between the eyes. The back of his head exploded, blood splattering, and he slammed to the ground. Vincent grabbed the door and slipped inside, momentarily stunned by what he saw. People clamored and dodged flying bullets, the sound of most of the noise muffled by silencers. Carmine came in behind him, ducking to the side in the flurry of gunfire.

Corrado stood by the front door, firing at a cowering Ivan, while Squint hid behind a table a few feet away, loading a gun. Vincent fired a few shots as Squint finished and pointed his weapon to fire back. Vincent’s first two bullets barely missed as he shielded himself, but the third one struck Squint in the chest. A loud gasp escaped his mouth as he slumped backward.

Something nearby caught Vincent’s attention as a bullet whizzed right by him, grazing his neck. He flinched at the searing pain, giving a wounded Squint barely enough time to get the upper hand. He fired off some back-to-back rounds, a bullet ripping through Vincent’s left shoulder as more flew past him. His arm went numb, burning coursing through his upper body as his son screamed.

Vincent turned at the sound as Carmine grasped his right arm, blood flowing through his shirt. Carmine recovered and grabbed his gun as Vincent swung back around to Squint.

He had shot his son.

Firing quickly, Vincent took a few steps toward Squint, his vision narrowing with the flash of the gun barrel as he pumped bullet after bullet into him. Three slammed into Squint’s chest, piercing his heart. Horrid gasps tore from him as he struggled to breathe.

Vincent paused over Squint, glaring down at his incapacitated form. He tried to pull himself away, straining to get ahold of his gun, but the life faded from him. Vincent aimed at his head and stared him in the eyes, seeing not an ounce of fear in Squint’s expression as he stared back. Cold and heartless, even down to his last seconds. No remorse for what he had done.

“Arrivederci,” Vincent said.

There was a flash of fire in Squint’s eyes at the word as he picked up his gun. Vincent fired off rounds in succession, bullets ripping through his skull.

Squint’s finger squeezed the trigger as a knee-jerk reaction, and a bullet flew off to the side as his body violently shook. Vincent didn’t stop until the gun clicked, leaving the mangled form unrecognizable.

He didn’t have any time to dwell before the deafening sound of an AK-47 ripped through the building, louder than the other muffled gunfire. Bullets slammed all around him, and Vincent ducked for cover as he grabbed his second gun. He flicked the safety off and fired at the man with the weapon, hitting him in the leg. The man stumbled but continued to shoot, another bullet grazing Vincent in the chaos.

Giovanni ran from the gunfire but couldn’t dive for cover fast enough. Bullets tore into him, and he cried out, attempting a few wayward shots as he collapsed.

Vincent’s gun clicked as he ran out of ammunition, and he struggled to reload as Carmine started shooting a few feet away. One of his bullets hit the man in the back, and he staggered, struggling to stay on his feet. Corrado aimed at that moment, finally turning his focus from Ivan, and fired three rounds into the man’s head without hesitation. He collapsed, his finger clutching the trigger and wildly spraying bullets. Corrado stumbled a few steps as he was hit from the side, but he stayed on his feet, his attention going back to Ivan.

A female’s piercing scream shattered the air, the sound sending a cold chill down Vincent’s spine. Carmine immediately ran in the direction of the noise, and Vincent chased after him as Corrado covered them.

On the filthy mattress in the corner, a body folded into itself. Jen obstructed their view as she stood over it, her eyes wide with fear, her hands in the air as if to surrender. “I’m sorry!”

An eerie silence fell over them as they stared at her. It passed as quickly as it came, however, and Carmine reacted . . . but Vincent was faster. He blocked Carmine’s line of sight and pulled the trigger, shooting Jen between the eyes. Riddled with shame, he stood over her as she dropped.

He couldn’t let his son be the one to carry that burden.

Staggering, an injured Ivan grabbed a discarded AK-47 from the floor as a last ditch effort. Vincent lunged for Carmine, throwing him to the ground as the spray of bullets rang out. They fired back, bullets tearing into Ivan from all directions. Vincent watched in horror as Corrado was shot again and dropped to his knees.

Vincent jumped up, his rage taking over, and three bullets struck Ivan in the head. He rushed toward his brother-in-law as Ivan dropped hard, taking out a metal chair on his way down. Vincent glanced around cautiously to make sure it was safe before dropping his gun and crouching down. Corrado wheezed and clutched his bloody chest, his face pale.

“Let me see,” Vincent said, prying Corrado’s hands away. He ripped his shirt open, exposing three entrance wounds on his chest. “This isn’t good, Corrado. We need to get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing Vincent away as he struggled to get to his feet. He swayed a bit but stood on his own, refusing help.

“Haven!” Carmine’s voice pulled Vincent’s attention away. His breath left him at the sight of Carmine sitting on the edge of the mattress, pulling the limp body into his arms.

Vincent approached, fearing the worst. She was barely recognizable from the girl who had stood in his house a few weeks earlier, instead resembling the girl he had picked up more than a year before. She had dropped a lot of weight, her skin blotchy and lips tinged blue.

Vincent grabbed her wrist. Her pulse was weak, her hand freezing and arm twisted in an odd direction. Vincent could see her chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths. Feverish, her pupils constricted, she didn’t react with any of her reflexes, her neurological system not functioning normally.

In less than a minute, Vincent knew what was wrong. The problem was, he couldn’t fix it.

“Is she okay?” Carmine caressed her face. “Christ, why isn’t she waking up?”

“I’m assuming she’s been drugged.”

“But is she going to be all right?”

“I wish I knew.”

“You’re always trying to play doctor with me, and the one goddamn time I ask you for help, that’s what you give me? You wish you knew?”

“I need to get her somewhere to assess her,” he said. “She’s alive.”

“And she better stay that way,” Carmine said. “Haven, I need you to wake up. Please, baby. You have to make it. I can’t do this if you don’t.”

Vincent’s chest ached at his son’s outburst of emotion. “I’ll do what I can for her.”

“If she doesn’t make it, I’ll fucking kill them all. Every single one of them.”

Corrado’s voice rang out beside them. “Too late. They’re already dead.”

Carmine glared at his uncle. “Well, we’ll bring those motherfuckers back to life, then.”

Corrado tried to take a step, but his knees buckled. Vincent grabbed him before he hit the floor. “I need to get you to a hospital right now.”

He scoffed, pushing Vincent away. “I’ll take myself and make something up. You need to get some men over here to clean up this mess before it takes us all down.”

He limped away, his pain visible in his movements, but he didn’t verbalize it. Corrado looked at the bodies scattered around, his eyes falling on Giovanni. “Che peccato.”

“I know. It’s a pity,” Vincent said, pulling out his phone as Corrado staggered toward the door. He watched, worry eating away at him. “Are you sure about this? You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“Don’t be ignorant, Vincent,” he said. “Get Haven to my house and fix her before your son resorts to resuscitating people just to kill them again.”

Corrado paused near the exit and pulled out his gun, turning back around. He glanced across the room to where young Dean sat quietly in shock and fired three times into the boy, startling Carmine. “Fuck! I thought you were going to show him some mercy!”