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“Move, we can regroup on the other side of the pier.” I break into a run, not waiting to see if they follow.

“You showed up at just the right time,” Ciro snarks. “Almost like you were following us.”

“He is not wrong.”

“Shut up, both of you. I saw you leave and figured it was to go get into trouble.”

“Be honest, you thought Fyo was going to drown me in the river.”

I glare back at him as we run, all while clamping down on the urge to laugh at the thoughtful expression on Fyodor’s face.

“Itwason the list of ways I thought of to end Shakal.”

“Hey! You said I was here for backup and good fighting!” Ciro fakes offense.

“You are. I just considered making accident with your body afterward.”

“Why does everyone want my body so bad?!”

“What does he mean by this?!” Fyo growls, giving me and Ciro a dirty look.

“Nothing!” We both shout at him simultaneously.

Reaching the far side of the pier, we duck down, catching our breath. Dozens of squads appear down below, fanning out, searching for us.

“How much ammo you have left?” I ask.

“One clip. Five shells for shotgun.” Fyo snaps, scoping out our position.

“I’ve got five bullets and a dozen knives. And Eddie.” Ciro rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes.

“Eddie?’”

“Eddie Machete. He’s rusty, but he’s trusty.”

“Why did I ask?” I grumble.

“I hate you so much right now,” Fyodor adds, edging out along a row of stacked boxes. Two of them explode right beside him in quick succession.

“Answers that question.”

“Snipers?”

“Snipers.”

We are pinned down. Outnumbered.

“Best route is through the factory, there. Good cover from fire.” I offer, gesturing for Fyo to cover me as I roll to another spot.

“Lead them into a funnel?” The bull of a man nods, signaling for Ciro to move.

“Deathtrap.Da.” I raise my gun as a few shouts announce that we are spotted. Three shots sends the group scattering for cover.

“Deathtrap. I like it. Reminds me of Sheila.” Ciro muses, waving us on, keeping an eye on a closing troupe of gangsters moving back into formation.

“Who is Sheila?” And I regret it the second I ask.

“My ex. Had to call the fire department with the jaws of life to get her off of me.”