“What do we f*****g know about this?" I bark.
“Warehouse is gone. Staz, the night guard, saw them creeping around with Molotov cocktails and called it in after he got to safety," Luc answers first.
“And?"
“And Sanchez f*****g junior doesn't care what was mapped out with his father. He's claiming this is his turf," Angel explains.
Pure rage leaks into my vision. This f*****g punk.
I look at the footage of what's left of one of my warehouses and I fume. This prick set fire to it.
He's lucky no one was injured. Lucky it was empty. But that's not the f*****g point.
“Want us to hit him back?" Angel asks.
My gaze flicks to Luc who's still studying the footage. He is frowning, and I wait for him to speak.
Angel is my muscle guy. My cousin. My best friend. And Luc. Luc is my Council. Look
