“Why did you help me?” There was that twisted smile again. “Because I like to fight … and kill. Because I hate the fucking Bratva. Because my family wants me dead, too. But most importantly, because I need loyal soldiers who will help me take back what’s mine.” “Who are you?” “Remo Falcone. And I will be Capo of the Camorra soon.” He opened the door to his truck and was halfway in when he added, “You can help me or you can wait for the Bratva to get you.” I got in. Not because of the Bratva. Because Remo had shown me a new purpose, a new destiny. A new family.
