The ashtray was full of cigarette butts, sitting on the table by Senior Marcus Lanzo's side. He was oblivious to his surroundings, his mind far away.
He missed his son. Marcus Jr. Sometimes he felt it was all a dream, and that Marcus would walk through the door, like those days when he late from university, asking what was for dinner. He'd look up and say, "You're grounded for scaring me like that."
He sighed heavily, his heart heavy. His son, gone. Almost a year now, but the pain had no calendar. His daughter, Sophie, under threat from men who wouldn't dare to have shown their faces when his son Marcus was alive and he couldn't even protect her.
His wife had not spoken to him in weeks. She blamed him for everything that had happened to their children. The accident. The enemies. The name Lanzo going around the city and country with family feud and different stories.
