Page 28 of They Found Us

“How do you know what I am thinking?”

“I can see guilt all over your face. Snap out of it. Where are your Guerra balls? You better put that shit to bed before we leave this island, or you will get us all fucking killed.”

He stops the car. We’ve reached the top of a small mountain. It’s a shooting range. Alex gets out of the car and greets a tall, thin man in a very worn camouflage outfit. While they greet each other, I get out and have a look around.

There are three outdoor shooting ranges, each with various shooting distances. There’s a large metal barn that appears to house an indoor shooting range, and there is also a thick, steel shipping container that, I imagine, stores the weapons and ammunition.

Alex finishes his conversation and joins me, slapping me on the back as he approaches. “Let’s see what you got, then, little brother.”

As I expected, the shipping container contains a variety of guns and ammunition.

“Get yourself a rifle, a pistol, and a shotgun,” Alex instructs as he picks up a shotgun and manoeuvres it around in his hands.

After a few minutes, I have selected some equipment I like the look of. The thin man who goes by the name of Hank sets us up in one of the bays. The targets, silhouettes of heads and shoulders, are several hundred feet away.

Hank runs though some safety precautions, but I don’t listen. I can’t hear him for the adrenaline that rushes through my body while I’m holding the rifle.

I’ve always had my gun with me at home, and I would often get it out of my safe and hold it, but it has been years since I fired a gun. Years since I inflicted gruelling pain or even death. The excitement of what’s to come has my heart beating so hard, I can hear it in my ears.

I bring the rifle up to my shoulder. I grip firmly with my right hand and support its weight with my left. Aligning my eyes with the target, I wrap my index finger around the trigger and fire.

One. Two. Three.

The sound, the adrenaline. The powerful equipment in my arms brings back feelings I hadn’t realised I’d missed. It feels good. It feels natural.

Alexs laughs as he sees the two eyes and the nose I have created in my target. “Not bad, Leo. Not bad at all.”

“It’s like riding a bike,” I say.

“Well, let’s hope Van doesn’t shoot as well as he rides a bike.”

“He’s a loyal man, Van is,” I reply protectively.

“I know, I know. I’m just having a joke.”

“Let’s see what you’re made of, then.”

Alex also fires his rifle three times—one straight in the middle of the forehead, one in the centre of the chest, and one in the groin area.

“Not bad,” I comment sarcastically.

It seems neither of us have lost our touch. We spend the next few hours, trying out different guns and shooting them from various ranges. I leave feeling exhilarated.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Alex asks as we start the journey down the mountain.

“I did.”

“It’s in our blood. We belong in Italy. We are the Guerra.”

“You’re glad to go back, aren’t you?”

“I never wanted to leave. I did it for you and Vanna,” he admits.

“It might be in my blood, but it isn’t a life I would have chosen. It’s not a life I would choose for my children.”

“Your boys can choose their own path. We aren’t like Papa. We would never force our children to become something they are not or willingly put them in danger. There’re ways of protecting Mark and Zander. We will keep them at a safe distance.” Alex turns and looks at me. “Just because we are returning to Italy doesn’t mean your life has to change. Yes, there will be a lot to deal with on our return. But once things settle down, I will take my position as leader, and you can take on as much or as little responsibility as you wish.”

“You will take over as leader?” Although I don’t want to return to the role of the don, I’m annoyed at Alex’s presumption that he will return and take the lead. After all, he has never been the boss of the Guerra. He was next in line before me, but when he died, he left that responsibility on me.

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