POV: VinicioSix weeks. That was how long the world had been spinning without my family in it. Six weeks of living in the crawlspaces of this city, eating dust and sleeping with a shotgun across my chest, waiting for the right moment to pull the pins on the foundation of Teresa’s new empire.Today, the foundation cracked.I stood on the periphery of the cordoned-off wreck that had once been a safehouse in the harbor district. The air was thick, choked with the smell of wet charcoal and scorched timber. Firefighters were still hosing down the charred skeleton of the building, the steam rising into the cold morning air like the breath of some dying beast.Two body bags were being loaded into the back of a coroner’s van.My heart did a stuttering, violent jump in my chest. Even knowing the plan, even knowing the stakes, the sight of those black bags made the world tilt."They're gone, Vinicio," a voice said.I didn't turn around. I didn't have to. I knew the cadence, the smug, honey-coat
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