Page 2 of Princes of Carnage

It turns my stomach to think of one of my guys out here alone dealing with that shit, on what should have been an easy job. Something that’s been done successfully a hundred times or more.

But clearly, someone had it out for my people, and they got away with it in a big way.

My teeth grind together, and I let out a short breath through my nose. I’ve been doing my best to run the gang well since my father’s death, to make him proud, but there are days when it’s harder than others. Days when I have no idea if I’m doing the things he’d want me to do or handling things the way he’d think they should be handled.

The truth is, this isn’t the first attack on a runner of ours in the past couple of months, although this one was definitely the worst. The others were minor scuffles, and the runners made it back with scrapes and bruises at worst. Paulie got it bad, and as far as I’m concerned, this is proof that it’s becoming a pattern—which is a huge problem.

Emmett steps up next to me, glancing around like he’s trying to make sure there are no threats lurking around. We have safety in numbers at the moment, but I’m grateful for his vigilance anyway.

“So what do you think?” he asks.

I drag my fingers through my teal colored hair and roll my shoulders, trying to let go of some of the tension that’s clinging to me.

“It feels targeted,” I tell him, speaking my thoughts out loud. “We’ve got Paulie laid up with bruises, cuts, and fractured bones, and a missing bag of money on top of that. This was planned. Someone’s got it out for us.”

He nods, sighing heavily. He’s twenty-eight, only four years older than me, but he looks older than that as worry pinches the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, it’s starting to look like that. A couple of random incidents could be explained away, but…”

“Yeah.” I nod, not bothering to finish his unspoken sentence when he trails off. “Now we need to start thinking hard about who’s behind all this shit. I want it stopped before it gets worse.”

Emmett nods again, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like fighting over turf is new in this city. And with what happened with your dad…” He shrugs. “I’m just saying, they might think we’re weak enough to pick off right now.”

I bark out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I had the same fucking thought, but I don’t know if that’s what this is. I mean, I was expecting shit like that right after he—”

My throat closes around the words as memories of seeing his body laid out, a bullet hole in his torso, rise unbidden in my mind’s eye. It’s still fucking hard to talk about it, even a year later.

I shake my head sharply, annoyed with myself for letting my emotions get the better of me for a moment. “But why would anyone wait this long if they wanted to come after us?” I ask, finishing my thought.

Emmett clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Who knows? But I can think of a few gangs that might want to try to shake things up if they think we’re still going through a rough time.”

“Like who?”

He starts listing names, ticking them off on his fingers. “Ruby Riot, the Princes of Carnage, the Hurricane gang—and that’s just off the top of my head.”

I nod, mulling that over. He’s right when he says there are any number of other gangs who might try to challenge us right now. That’s just how things are in this life. Getting to the bottom of who the fuck it is isn’t going to be easy, but we have to start somewhere.

I can feel the eyes of Emmett, Fallon, and the others who came with us today on me, all of them waiting for orders. I’m lucky that they respect me enough to follow me, that they don’t question my orders and they place the same trust in me that they placed in my dad.

But at the same time, it’s a weight of responsibility on my shoulders that I’m still learning how to carry.

There’s no time to dwell on that though. Not when my people could be in danger just doing routine money drops.

“We need a lead,” I say, dragging my gaze away from the blood stain on the ground and glancing around at the men I have with me. “Widen your search of the scene and look for anything the attackers might have left behind. Anything that seems like it doesn’t belong here. Fan out, and be thorough.”

They all nod and peel off to do as I say, spreading out in all directions and leaving me alone on the sidewalk for the moment.

After a second of getting my head back in the game, I step forward to do my own search.

About half a block away, at the corner of the street, there’s a big, abandoned warehouse. It’s been empty for long enough that it looks more like an amateur art project than a place that was used to store materials, covered in graffiti and splashes of paint. There’s smoke damage all along one side of it, as if someone tried to burn it down at one point, but the old pile of bricks only got singed.

I step into it through the broken door, keeping my head on a swivel as I go. The building is big enough that it could easily have hidden a bunch of attackers, and the view from the grimy windows shows the spot where Paulie went down pretty well.

A vantage point, maybe.

My lips curve into a frown at that thought. This place could’ve served as a solid vantage point and hiding spot, but for the attackers to use it that way, they’d have to have known that Paulie was likely to stop at this exact point for a smoke. The business we use for money laundering is another half mile up the road, but this is a good middle ground. Somewhere they wouldn’t be seen.

That means it’s likely they knew what route he would take.

Did they watch him on a run or two before making their move? Why?

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