Made to be the Mafia lords own

ly demands as I s

ng my voice calm despite the adre

ettled by my unexpected appeara

. "I want what's rightfully mine, Uncle.

eft the family years ago. You

I retort, my voice rising. "But I've come back to set things ri

e kind of hero, don't you? You're just a traitor, Ant

in check. "I'm not a coward, Uncle. I'm tr

think you can waltz in here and play the hero, and everyt

at him. "I'm done listening to your lies. I

"Antonio, let's be reasonable here. We can ta

g. I've made up my mi

****

past me, and I duck behind a pillar for co

" I hear Fran

them. See them shoot

udas?" I

nods. "All

room," I order. "My uncle is in there. But you

po," the

g. Juto throws it to

"What is

here are you

ess," I

of business? I thoug

se," I explain, as I shoot my

ful," she says, a note

" I assure her

***

round them. I can smell the metallic tang of blood, and hear the sound of gunf

open, gun raised. Inside, I see my uncle sittin

y voice hard. "It'

es. "You'll never get away with this, Antonio. The f

n him. "You brought this on yourself, Uncle. You made y

nto his voice. "Don't do this. We can work something

his lies. I've made up my

ugh the room, I know that nothi

ce. I lower my gun, feeling a mix of relief and regret coursing throu

. This was supposed to be the end, the culmination of years of planning and

's guards lie scattered on the floor, their lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. Blood

nces to my actions, but I never imagined it would come to this. The weight of g

to focus on what comes next. I need to get out of here b

hallway. As I make my way down the stairs, I can feel the weight of my unc

ng that I've finally taken control of my destiny. No longer am I bound by the expectations

tting the weight of the past fall away. I may not know what the

darkness of the night, I kn

e deserted streets of Chicago. The city feels different now, transformed by the events of the night. It

of unease that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. My uncle's death will not go unnotic

the storm blows over. But first, I need to tie up loose end

tsteps as I move with purpose through the deserted streets. As I reach

dialing a number from memory. It rings once,

oice steady despite the t

f the line, and then a sigh of reli

sense of finality wash over me. It's over. The chapter of my lif

of Lake Michigan, I know that this is not the end of my story. It's just t

er comes next, I'll face it head-on, with courage and de

ar into the night, leaving behind the life I once knew an