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I charge forward, grab the man, and ram my gun against his skull. “Where is Dima?”

Antonio strolls across the warehouse to the guy who’s still whining about his wound. He stands tall over him, shooting three shots into his head, and slams his foot into the guy’s skull.

“Start talking, or I’ll do worse with you,” he tells Noodles, aiming his gun at him.

“You won’t kill me.” Noodles seems too sure of himself. “You don’t want to start a war.”

I shoot him in the leg. “A war has already been started. Now, we need to figure out if you’ll be the next casualty of it.”

He cries out in pain, similar to how his sidekick did, but doesn’t fall on the ground.

“I won’t tell you where they took her,” he says. “I do, I die.”

“You don’t tell meright now, you also die,” I point out, shooting him in the other leg. I inch forward so I’m in his face. “And it won’t be a fast death, like your buddy over there. First, I’ll let one of my men torture you for hours, and then I’ll gouge one of your eyes out and let a vulture eat it in front of you before laying your organs all around the city and sending your family a map to find each of them.” I butt my gun against his cheek. “Don’t test me.”

His attention floats to his dead friend.

Dima set him up for death here.

He knew these men would die as soon as we realized him nor Yaroslav was coming. I know the second it dawns on this idiot, and he stumbles back a step. I do it with him, not letting my gun fall from his head.

“You help me out, I’ll make sure you live,” I offer.

“You’re lying,” Noodles says, sweat now falling down his forehead, and he keeps swallowing.

“I respect your loyalty,” Antonio says, straightening his back and lowering his gun from Noodles. He throws out his arms. “As the boss of the Lombardi family, I reward men who help me. You said you hated being treated as if you were beneath us. How about I let youjoin us?”

The man’s nostrils flare, and with his shot leg, he grows weak. I hold him up, stopping him from falling.

“You’re lying,” he sputters.

Antonio jerks his head toward Damien. “You see this man here?”

“Yeah?” Noodles sways from side to side, somewhat losing consciousness.

“Jesus, have none of you been shot before?” I hiss.

Antonio slaps Damien’s shoulder. “This man here, he worked for the Marchettis. Now, I went to war with the Marchettis. He told me information I wanted to know, and instead of killing him, I made him my underboss.”

Damien nods in agreement, lowering his gun. “Best decision I ever made. Not once has he seen me as a man from the other side. I’m his equal, unlike I was with Marchetti.”

Noodles gulps a few more times.

He pays a glance to each of us, as if trying to catch one in a lie.

“What do you say?” Antonio asks with the skill of the best salesman in the world. “Join my family. Come be appreciated.”

“O-okay,” Noodles stutters out.

Damien grabs his chair, dragging it over to us, and motions for him to sit.

See how fucking nice we are.

We’re here to be your friend.

Have a seat, you piece of shit.

I kneel in front of him. “Would you like some water?”