Our father was the biggest whore on the planet. Three women, four sons, and three half-brothers left in his wake. Somehow, we got along. We formed deep bonds. Nothing and no one could tear us apart. They’d tried, yet we were still going strong. I glanced at Enzo. He was like me, tossed out into the world, both of our mothers long dead. The only one who still had a breathing mother was Benito, and he didn’t even talk to her until she came back around needing something from him.
