Chapter 43: Irish Morning

Marcell’s POV

“Angel Russo.” My made name was spoken with an Irish lilt.

“Mr. Kelly.” I greeted the head of the Irish crime family.

Shamus Kelly shook my hand before we sat down, the sun just beginning to rise on the east of the river. The cold morning air burned against my nose, freezing the end of it. I resisted the urge to rub warmth back into it.

“I have to say, I was surprised when you called, Angel,” Shamus said, leaning back against the wooden rocking chair.

Sitting outside of his mansion just outside of the city, Shamus Kelly didn’t hesitate when I called to invite me over first thing in the morning. There was no mystery that the Kelly family had been itching to overthrow my family for decades, an effort that, much to their detriment, robbed the Kelly family of many of their members.