Chapter 3 - Blood on the Formica
The table flipped upward with a sharp crack, smashing directly into the enforcer's chest and sending him crashing backward through a freestanding napkin holder and into a stack of plastic chairs.
Before his partner at the door could draw his weapon, I cleared the booth, vaulted over the overturned table, and closed the distance in two strides. My right hand caught the second man’s wrist, driving the barrel of his gun upward just as a muffled pop echoed through the small diner. The bullet punched a clean, jagged hole through the acoustic ceiling tiles.
I slammed my elbow into his jaw, followed by a swift, brutal sweep of my boot that dropped him hard onto the linoleum floor.
Behind me, the first enforcer roared, recovering faster than I anticipated. He lunged forward with a switchblade gleaming in his palm, slashing wildly toward my ribs. I twisted to the side, letting the blade graze my coat while I grabbed his forearm, hyperextending the joint until a sickening snap echoed through the room.
He screamed, dropping the knife. A single swift strike to the base of his skull put him out cold.
I stood in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving slightly, the adrenaline humming in my veins. The diner was dead silent once more, save for the hum of the old refrigerator and the rhythmic patter of the rain outside.
Rosa stepped out from the hallway, her face pale as paper, her eyes wide as she looked at the two unconscious men bleeding onto her floor. Behind her, the four girls peeked out, though Rosa immediately threw her arm out, blocking their view.
"Get back inside," Rosa commanded them, her voice trembling but fierce.
"Are you okay, mister?" the youngest—the seven-year-old who had asked about my quietness—asked softly from behind her mother's skirt.
"I'm fine, kiddo," I lied, forcing a steady, reassuring smile that felt entirely alien on my face. "Go finish your homework. Your mom and I need to clean up a mess."
When the door to the storage room clicked shut, Rosa turned to me, her anger finally eclipsing her fear.
"You brought them here," she hissed, marching up to me and slamming her fist against my chest. "You knew they were tracking you, and you brought them right to my doorstep! To my daughters!"
"They were going to find me anyway, Rosa," I said, catching her wrist gently to stop her blows. "If I had stayed away, they would have found you just to use you as leverage. Falcone doesn't leave witnesses. The moment your daughter looked up my name at school, our timeline shrank to hours."
Rosa stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The anger drained out of her, leaving behind a hollow, defeated exhaustion. "So what do we do? We can't stay here. The police in this district are on Falcone's payroll. If we call them, we're signing our own death warrants."
"We don't call the police," I said, walking over to the front door and flipping the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. I pulled down the metal security shutters over the windows, locking them securely from the inside. "We pack a bag. All of you."
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"Pack a bag?" Rosa repeated incredulously. "Where are we supposed to go? We don't have money, we don't have a car—"
"You have me," I interrupted, my tone leaving zero room for debate. "And for better or worse, Rosa... my enemies are your enemies now."
