Page 32 of Uprising

Koen takes a seat opposite me. I try not to bristle. Not to show that right now I want some god damn space.

“It’s time we had a talk you and I.” He says.

“Really? Now?” I reply glancing at the screen again. Now is not the time. I’m too on edge, too wound up about everything to think calmly, rationally.

He smirks leaning forward.

I should watch my mouth really. He’s a gang leader. He could turf me out, skin me alive, and no one down here would bat an eyelid by the sounds of it.

“Your friend made some promises.” He says. “While you were off in La La land.”

“What promises?” I ask.

He grins again. “Money.”

Of course he did. Of course Ben said we’d pay. “We don’t have any.” I state.

He lets out a laugh. “Now that’s not true. We all know the Montagues are rolling in dough.”

“Not right now. Darius took everything,”

He shakes his head. “Yeah but when we take it back that’s when you pay up.”

I narrow my eyes realising what this is. He’s speculating. Putting a bet on me, like I’m a horse at the national.

“How much?” I ask.

“Twenty million.”

“Twenty million?” I repeat. Fuck me, where did Ben pull that number from?

“We’ll waive your expenses. Your accommodation, food, clothes etc.”

“Very noble.” I retort.

He grins. “I like you Roman, you’ve got more bite than your mate does.”

“Ben has bite. You just haven’t seen it yet.” I say.

“Nah? Guess he saves that for your sister huh?”

I raise my eyebrows, what the fuck does he know about Ben and Sofia?

“He doesn’t shut up about her.” He states. “He tried to get me to rescue her.”

“And you refused?” I say. God, what is Sofia going through right now? What awful things is she enduring because of my fuckups?

He shakes his head. “I would have, she’s a pretty thing, at least she was till Otto Blumenfeld got his hands on her.”

I clench my fists. I haven’t dared to contemplate what Otto is doing because I know if I do, thatwillsend me over the edge.

“Why didn’t you help?” I ask.

“You have no idea what it’s like now. Fucking Capulets own the streets. Darius is ensuring it’s his way or the highway. We can’t step foot above ground without one of their cronies shooting our head off.”

“Then how are you supposed to help me?” I snarl.

He leans forward, gripping the arms of the seat and his leather jacket creaks with the movement. “We help each other. You have contacts. We have men. We start a war, a real war, a guerrilla war. The way they do in the favella. We make sure we have areas, zones, the cops won’t dare to go and piece by piece we take this city from them.”

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