Chapter 9 - The South Side
The three brothers stared at the small, exhausted maid holding the crumpled check.
She was offering them the very money they had used to try and fire her.
“You would risk cashing that for us?” Roman asked, his voice entirely devoid of its usual cold authority.
Maeve scrubbed the pink eraser fiercely across the back of the check, erasing the word 'void' completely.
“I’m not doing it for you,” Maeve said flatly.
“I’m doing it because Carlo knows my name, and I need you three alive to kill him before he kills my sister.”
Declan let out a low, approving rumble in his chest.
“I like her,” Declan declared.
They drove to the South Side under the cover of darkness.
The neighborhood was a maze of cracked pavement, flickering streetlights, and iron-barred windows.
It was a world the Falcone brothers usually only saw from the back of tinted limousines.
Maeve parked the SUV in a dark alley behind a neon-lit, bulletproof check-cashing storefront.
“Stay here,” Maeve ordered, grabbing a heavy oversized hoodie from her bag and pulling the hood over her head.
“If three guys in tailored Italian suits walk in there, you’ll be robbed before you reach the counter.”
She slipped out of the car and walked into the bright, fluorescently lit store.
The brothers watched anxiously from the dark alley.
Ten minutes later, Maeve emerged carrying a heavy brown paper bag.
She climbed back into the driver's seat and tossed the bag onto Gabriel's lap.
“Forty thousand in unmarked bills,” Maeve announced, putting the car in gear.
“The teller took twenty percent for not asking why a maid was cashing a check from Roman Falcone.”
Gabriel opened the bag, staring at the massive stacks of cash.
“This is enough to buy an arsenal from the Russian syndicate,” Gabriel smiled.
“We need a place to lay low while we gear up,” Roman said, checking his dead burner phone.
“Every hotel in the city will be watched.”
Maeve sighed, turning the steering wheel toward a familiar street.
“I know a place.”
“But you’re not going to like it.”
She drove to a run-down, brick apartment complex on the edge of the industrial district.
She parked the SUV behind a rusted dumpster and led the brothers up three flights of concrete stairs.
She unlocked the door to a tiny, one-bedroom apartment.
The walls were thin, the paint was peeling, and the radiator hissed loudly in the corner.
But it was clean, and it smelled faintly of lavender and cheap bleach.
“Welcome to my palace,” Maeve said, locking the deadbolt behind them.
The brothers stepped inside, looking entirely out of place in the cramped living room.
Suddenly, a small, weak voice called out from the bedroom.
“Maeve?”
“Is that you?”
Maeve’s tough exterior instantly melted away.
She rushed into the bedroom, leaving the brothers standing awkwardly in the hallway.
Lying in a small bed attached to a humming dialysis machine was a young girl, no older than sixteen.
She was pale, incredibly thin, and completely exhausted.
This was Lily, the sister Maeve had sacrificed everything to keep alive.
Maeve knelt by the bed, brushing the hair from her sister's forehead.
“I’m here, Lily,” Maeve whispered softly.
Lily looked past Maeve, her eyes widening as she saw the three massive, bruised men standing in her doorway.
May you like
“Maeve,” Lily gasped, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“Did you bring the mafia home again?”
