Luca gasped for air, his breath coming in jagged, staccato bursts as he pressed himself against the cold brick wall of an alleyway in Brooklyn.
His side was glossy with blood.
They had All but escaped the docks alive. The explosions had provided them sufficient cover to flee, but the deed was done.
The Romanos were losing this war.
Sofia knelt beside him, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration as she tore a strip off her shirt and pressed it to the wound. We need to get you fixed up.'
Luca gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Tell that to the blood running down your damn leg.”
Marco, still pallid from his own injury, was at the mouth of the alley, looking for any indication of the Corsicans. “We can’t stay here. They’ll be hunting us.”
Luca nodded, stifli
