Domenico
Jenkins glared at those who stood down.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get your guns up, now!” Jenkins yelled to the other men. They refused, which was odd, but then again, they worked for Ferrante in the end. The leader, though, didn’t seem to share the same sense of order and obligation, which made me believe he was a direct hire of my father’s. “Fuck this,” he hissed, returning his attention to Domenico, but before he could do anything, a shot rang out.
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