Claimed By The Mafia Boss
He’d been out of it when it all went down.
We both looked at him, too tired to explain. Too much had happened.
I sighed, scratching the bridge of my nose and turning my eyes away.
“The more reason why I should get out there,” Bobby grumbled.
He was pleading now, his voice low but firm.
“Because this is what you know,” I said to him.
He blinked, almost relieved that I understood.
That was what it meant for him. To be alive was to live this life.
Bobby had started working with us a year into the business. He’d grown up in the Moretti household, once a boy soldier in their ranks. His dad had worked with Marco’s father.