Chapter 7
Gunns' Fury
Enraged by the YNs' response, Gunns becomes more aggressive. He rallies his own forces, fueled by a thirst for revenge and a deeper desire to prove his strength.
The air in Gunns' makeshift war room hung thick with the acrid scent of cheap cigar smoke and desperation. Maps, crudely drawn with blood-red ink marking territory lines that were more suggestion than fact, lay scattered across a scarred table. Gunns paced, a caged animal, his shadow dancing with the flickering lamplight. The news from the last encounter had landed like a punch to the gut. The YNs, Capone’s ever-present dogs, had shown up in force, swift and brutal, repelling his push into the West End. It wasn’t just a setback; it was an insult.
“They think they can just push us back?” Gunns spat, his voice a gravelly rasp. He slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the maps. “Capone’s little bitches. They think they’re untouchable.”
His second, a wiry man named Roach with eyes that darted like cornered rats, winced. “They came with numbers, boss. And they were ready.”
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