Thirty-Three

Athena

When Luciano finally hauled his ass home, it was late at night. He returned quietly, a valiant warrior with the shadows of death haunting his feet. I rose to my feet partly in caution and partly in excitement. I didn’t know why I was so fucking excited by the way. Perhaps I was just thrilled. Thrilled at the prospect of getting down and dirty with my investigation. If I played my cards right, I could ferret out just the information I needed. Like who the hell was after Luciano and why they were hell-bent on killing him. I had seen the shootout.

It was a bloody battle.

Despite the fact that the media hadn’t been able to get too close to the scene or get a solid visual, the blur we could see was informative enough. It was madness. And sheer stupidity if you ask me! How could a group of men shoot squarely at each other without the fear of getting shot to death? They seemed to fear nothing, aiming fearlessly at the enemy.

I watched Luciano walk into the living room, his gait pro