Reclaiming My Path
By five o’clock the next morning, before the sun had even risen, the docks were already crowded with people. Our workers, members of other organizations, and Mark’s old crew were all there, armed and ready, their eyes steady with determination.
Enzo was also there, dressed in black tactical gear, a submachine gun in his hands. He stood beside me.
“Lily,” he said, “if it gets messy, stay right behind me. Don’t rush forward.”
I shook my head and drew my pistol from my waist. “I’m not the same Lily as before. I’m the heir of the Moretti family. I’ll fight alongside everyone.”