“You wouldn’t really have killed your own dad though? I mean, you might have been angry with him, but you wouldn’t really have done it, would you?” We locked eyes for a second and I caught a glimpse of the Harper who had killed me, the one who had sat in the shadows and watched me suffer and in that one second I answered my own question and felt a shiver ripple over my skin, raising goose bumps. “I did go back eventually though. Frank was killed in the December of Thirty-One, the Italians took over the streets of South Boston and anyone involved in Frank’s gang was being hunted down and killed. I was second only to Walsh who was murdered alongside Frank and I knew the Italians would be gunning for me, quite literally, so I decided to leave the city, but not before visiting the old man one
