Chapter 27: Broken Hearts.

Marcell’s POV.

“To Chicago!” Shamus called out, raising up his glass.

Beer sloshed over the sides of the cup, spilling down his big pale hands, landing on the polished mahogany table. A roar of yells rang out around the tight cramped space as we were all squeezed in this boxed-in space like tuna in a can. Men from various syndicates, mixing with representatives of families toasting to the city they owned alongside the men who ran the streets, providing them with drugs, and women.

The worst of Chicago was within breathing distance of me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the tempting urge to set off an explosive in the heart of the room to rid the city of the filth. Especially the more I heard the man next to my right give an explicitly detailed description of what he did to his mistress before coming to the meeting.