Hear No Evil

Eve

"Your father called...again."

"What do you expect me to do with that information, Enzo?" Dante casually asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you should call him back."

"You know? I think you might be onto something," Dante replied, taking his phone out of his jacket pocket. Lorenzo let out a satisfied sigh. His voicemail was filled with hateful messages from Salvatore promising death and destruction if his calls weren't returned.

"Hello? Father? Go fuck yourself, you pig. Since you love your fucking nephew so much. I'll make sure you join him in Hell, you bastard!" Dante yelled before hanging up the phone. Lorenzo couldn't hide the owlish look on his face. "I have returned his call. Are you satisfied, Lorenzo?"

"I have no choice but to be satisfied..."

"Now you're speaking my language," Dante replied with an evil gleam in his eyes. Lorenzo realized Dante's villain origin story began as soon as he pulled the trigger, killing Marco and Valeria. He knew that Dante wouldn't stop until he made it to the top. Riding off his high, Dante now wanted to continue his reign of terror on American soil.

"What is your plan once we arrive in New York?"

"We're going straight to the Blue Steels, and we're gonna kick their fucking door in. Our chapter there is getting their shit together as we speak. I don't want any survivors. Do you understand me, Enzo? Make it clear to those motherfuckers. No survivors, no exceptions."

"No survivors, no exceptions," Lorenzo confirmed.

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

New York - Blue Steel Main House

"Mmmm, Eve," Trent sighed as his queen leisurely rode him. She dipped down and completely stole his breath with one simple kiss. "This was it, baby. I'm finally getting out--we're finally getting out," he promised.

Eve read the promise on Trent's lips and wondered if this was really it. For the last year, they had been stuck in a vicious cycle--promise to get out, one more job, then they were back at it again. They were both weary of the gang life. It was initially exciting and empowering, but it got old quickly once the glitz and glamor wore off. Their friends were dying, their enemies multiplying, and the police stayed with their foot on their necks. Eve was over patching up her loved ones and constantly looking over her shoulder, never knowing when she would catch a bullet. She wanted to start a family, and fortunately for her, Trent was on the same page.

Eve knew it wasn't an easy decision for him to make. Trent started from the bottom and worked his way up through the ranks. Eve remembered when he was boosting cars and selling weed when they were teenagers. That seemed like a lifetime ago. They weren't 15 anymore. They were in their mid-twenties, well past the average life expectancy of an active gang member. At this point, they were playing Russian Roulette with their lives. Eve understood that Trent wanted to ensure that his boys were set up and that the gang was left in good hands before they dipped. He didn't want the set to collapse and his hard work wasted.

"You believe me, right?"

She nodded, but not fast enough. Trent noticed the hesitancy, but he didn't fault her for lying. Eve was Trent's right hand, his partner in crime, ride or die, his Bonnie to his Clyde, and everything in between. She was wise beyond her years, and she was a pit viper when it came to money moves. Behind closed doors, she'd offer her warm lap for his head, where he laid and cried until he had no more tears left to cry. Eve gave him her time, energy, love, and unwavering support, and it was time for him to repay her. Leaving the gang life behind was the least he could do.