—Tristan—  

      Fabian kept tossing glances at his father resting on the backrest of the car, looking fucking eager to tear into the man. “Your plan really worked. You crushed the fucking Outfit,” Fabian said, turning to me.

     I stared at the road. The triumph I’d been working toward, destroying the Outfit from within, I held it in my hands. I’d seen it on the faces of my enemies. I knew they’d keep suffering. 

    Fabian shifted in his seat. ...