Midnight, at the northwest port of New York, a roll of warehouses stood in the open, surrounded by cranes and cargo ships. A black Maybach drove to a stop. Vincenzo got out and strode towards Alvin who was waiting for him by the entrance. "What happened?" "Thirteen of our men shot, dead. The bullets are ours," Alvin jogged up to Vincenzo. "But based on my calculations, they should have run out of the stolen ammo a long time ago. Gordon may have stolen your guns and ammo but it's not enough, considering all the crimes that happened recently. Manhattan, Chicago, LA, Vegas and Philadelphia, all had signs of our weapons," Alvin looked pale. "Someone's fucking us over, reproducing our bullets. Framing and messing with us," Vincenzo took out a cigarette and puffed on it rather angrily. "If this gets too big, the authorities will be forced to
Last Updated : 2025-02-05 Read more