I shifted into gear. My hands were steady, a side effect of having nothing left to lose. Ever since the betrayal at the Liberty City Bank—the cold sting of Catalina’s bullet and the heavy silence of the police van—I had become a ghost in this city. A ghost who did favors for the Leone family.
As I pulled out into the street, the radio flickered to life. Head Radio was playing some upbeat pop track that felt mocking in the gloom. I gripped the wheel tighter as the gorillas spotted me. One reached into his coat, but I was faster. I floored the pedal, the tires screaming against the rain-slicked road.
The rain in Liberty City didn’t just fall; it felt like it was trying to wash the sins off the pavement, though it never quite succeeded.
