Blake
It traumatised several generations of children. Including me.
BunnytheKiller
No wonder you ended up a mafia boss.
Though, maybe we need better children’s books.
Blake
Indeed. So what do you read?
BunnytheKiller
You’ll laugh.
I’m intrigued.
Blake
I won’t. I’ll read one and enjoy it.
“Norwood, could you indicate you give a small amount of fucks about this war you’re so keen to start?” snaps Westminster.
My chin jerks up guiltily. The rest of the men are looking at me with sympathy or annoyance.
I glance back down at my messages with Bunny.
The dots are bouncing. Her replying lifts my heart in a way I didn’t know possible, and suddenly there’s clarity, like clouds swept away by the wind revealing blue sky.
I thought I wanted the stimulation of destroying the Essex Cartel, but I can see now it was boredom and lack of connection. I was fucking lonely and expected crushing the enemies of London—not even me, Norwood isn’t exactly right next to Essex—would give me a sense of accomplishment.
“No.”
Westminster stares at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
I think I’ve finally found it.
“Norwood, what are you talking about?” Edmonton asks, his anger clear in every clipped Russian syllable.
Woodford actually growls.
Which is only right. They’re close neighbours of Essex. They stand to feel all the effects of an outright war between Essex and London.
“I’ve thought carefully, and this isn’t my fight,” I say.
“You’ve been the main advocate for direct action,” Westminster points out, his eyes sharp. “Why the change?”
“He’s come to his senses,” says Dalston and the Russian is deadly calm.
I look back down at my conversation with Bunny.
BunnytheKiller
Anything I say?
Blake
