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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE MILLIONAIRES’ ROW

Donata lived in a gated community made up of eleven mansions. Perched on the top of a winding hill, they formed a sprawling semi-circle. Each one looked out on to a park full of exotic-looking trees and vibrant bursts of flowers. In the middle, waterfalls tumbled into a fresh lagoon. It was like something out of a fairytale, a haven nestled away from the dusty streets of the city, far removed from the bright lights of Eden.

It was called Millionaires’ Row.

And every single house on Millionaires’ Row belonged to a member of the Marino crime family.

The sixth house – the one right in the middle of the other houses – was the largest. It was more like a museum or a parliament building than a house. It was pure white, with balconies spilling out from every angle and huge floor-to-ceiling windows sucking in every possible fleck of sunlight.

It was the house my father and my uncle grew up in.

It was the house Donata Marino now lived in.

In a convoy of three cars – all black, identical, and unplated – we pulled up to the security booth. I had to crane my neck to see all the way to the front of the line. Felice got out and shot the security man once in the head. Dom dragged his body back inside the booth. Paulie destroyed the entrance cameras, and all within the space of twenty seconds, the black gates to Millionaires’ Row swung open, and the Falcone family drove inside.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t glance at the body – the edge of a shoe, the glint of a belt buckle in my periphery.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and gripped my gun inside my jacket pocket.

There was no going back now.