Page 13 of Ravaged and Ruined
I strip my gloves off, tucking them into my back pocket, and head toward the front bay doors. The metal groans as I yank one open wide enough to slip through. Inside, it’s darker. Dust motes float in the sunbeams slashing through the broken windows. The floor is cracked concrete, littered with debris, an old tire here, a rusted pipe there, broken pallets and busted-up crates. A bird’s nest in the rafters. Every sound bounces back at us twice as loud, and I feel the prickle of adrenaline along my skin.
Tango flips his knife in his hand, walking slow and deliberate. "Place smells like mold and rat piss."
"Adds character," Crank grunts, giving a broken table a swift kick out of his way.
I step into the belly of the place, boots thudding against the cracked concrete. Under all the filth, it’s solid. Thick support beams, high ceilings, enough square footage to build a fuckin' empire inside.
It’s exactly what we need. It’s not polished, not pretty. Fuck that noise. It’s real. We could build our own little kingdom here carved out in the ruins.
I make a slow circuit around the open space, each step deliberate, my eyes sweeping corners and shadows like they’re hiding secrets. My boots crunching over broken glass, listening to the others moving behind me.
Padre mutters something about the place being a "damn shithole," but I hear the excitement in his voice, too.
They feel it, the same as I do.
I stand in the center of the floor, looking up at the cavernous ceiling, feeling the weight of it settle into my bones. It fits. Itfucking fits.
“Good bones,” I grunt, more to myself than anyone else.
We can build something here. Our rules. Our money.
"Could fix it up fast enough," Pike says from somewhere off to my right. "Steel doors, security cameras, fencing. Fortify the rooftop. Make it a fortress."
I nod once. Yeah. I close my eyes for a second, imagining it. The ring upstairs for fights, the tables down here for the games, the cash flowing in faster than we can stack it. When I open them again, the decision is already made. This is ours.And if Ricci doesn’t like it? He can choke on the empire we’re about to build right under his nose.
Boots scrape behind me as the brothers spread out, checking corners, kicking debris aside with low curses.
"Shithole's a compliment," Hashtag mutters, poking at a rusted-out filing cabinet with the toe of his boot. "You sure this is the move, Prez?"
I shoot him a look over my shoulder. "Ain’t supposed to be pretty. It’s supposed to be ours."
Hashtag grunts, not arguing but not exactly convinced either.
Grizzly steps up next to me, his arms crossed over his cut. "We gut it, reinforce the walls, lock it down tight. This could work. Hell, it'd take a fuckin' tank to bust in once we're done."
"Location's good and so is the asking price," Rancor adds from the far side of the warehouse, his voice echoing off the walls.
I nod, climbing the stairs to the office space that overlooks the floor. The door hangs crooked on its hinges. I shove it open, the metal shrieking like a dying animal. Inside, it’s nothing but a busted desk and the smell of rot. Still, the large window provides a good vantage point. I lean against the framework, surveying my crew.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting through the silence like a blade. Blocked number, of course. I ignore it but secondslater it’s ringing again. I answer with a grunt, lifting the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"
Ricci’s voice slides through the speaker with an edge I know too damn well. "Aero. Word travels fast in this city. Faster than I think even you realize."
My muscles lock up tight, every instinct I’ve got going straight to red alert.
"You’ve got yourself an eye for real estate, son," he continues, his tone all easy charm, playing a familiar game. "Hell of a location you’re looking at. Shame if it got... tangled up."
I don't answer. I just listen, because that's what you do when a snake talks, you listen close enough to hear the fangs rattle.
"You know me," Ricci says, "I respect ambition. I admire it, even. I didn’t come to Atlantic City to start a war but step carefully, business is business."
The line goes dead before I can tell him to go fuck himself. I jam the phone back in my pocket, grinding my teeth so hard my jaw pops.
A chill rides down my spine, cold despite the heat baking the warehouse walls. I clench my fists, my brain already working the angles. Ricci knows too much. Either he’s got ears on the street, or worse, he’s got eyes inside our own walls.
"Yo, Aero! You’re gonna wanna see this!" Grizzly barks.
My gut knots instantly. I descend the stairs and cross the floor fast, Rancor on my heels. Surge and Backdraft fall in from the other side. We find Grizzly in a storage room near the far end. Next to him, sitting dead-center on the floor is what looks like a crumpled blue tarp but then Grizzly grabs the corner and yanks it all the way back.
