Chapter 69: My Plaything
Giordano POV, Earlier At The Fake Safehouse, They Blew
"You idiots couldn't catch a cold in a snowstorm."
I stepped out of the black SUV like a storm rolling in. My boots hit the gravel. My jaw clenched. The wreckage of the failed raid still smoked behind the so-called safehouse. Bodies, blood, confusion. Smoke still hung in the air.
Scarface stood near the busted porch, limping, his cheek split open again, still stitched from last time. He looked like a kicked dog.
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