Chapter 71
? We Share ?
A little girl, eight or nine, bare feet, wandered the streets.
Luna.
Her grandmother had lost her cleaning job in the middle–class district that morning. Constables had doubled their patrols since yesterday, barging into taverns and small shops that had mob ties, warning owners about unregistered workers and demanding crime records. Anyone who couldn’t produce one on the spot was fired.
And now the girl was out here, trying to find food, or help, or something.
She reached the intersection of the eastern slums… and the Red Corner, where a bunch of kids were scattered around doorsteps, sitting on thresholds, staring at nothing. They didn’t dare go deeper into the eastern slums again—too dangerous now—but the hunger was eating them alive.
When Luna stepped in, their eyes lifted.
“Got anything there?” one called out. “Anything will do.”
She froze.
Something in the boys had shifted—desperation twisting into a predator’s instinct.
She backed away, trembling, too scared to run and too scared to stay.
The boys stood.
“You don’t look much better than us,” one said, stepping forward, “but… please. Help us out.”
That was enough for her.
She turned and sprinted back the way she came.
The boys chased her.
Then—
a sharp whistle cut the air.
Pinch’s whistle.
The little Wolf perched on a rooftop, legs dangling, watching like a hawk. At his signal, two figures burst from the opposite street.
Lino was first, grinning like he’d been waiting for this. “Knew you’d try that again around this time, bastards!”
Tonno came right behind, roaring, “Thought we made it clear last time in the Plaza!”
But no fight came.
The Red Corner kids—once vicious—were too starved to stand. Hungry for food, not trouble. Thirsty for water, not blood. At the sight of Lino and Tonno, they collapsed.
“Help… please.”
Some were crying. Others clutched their stomachs like they might burst.
“Crumbs. Anything.”
Luna peeked out from behind Tonno’s broad frame.
Tonno looked at the kids, and only now—up close—he realized he barely recognized them.
Lino scoffed. “Meh, meh, meh. You were about to rob this girl. Don’t act poor now.”
“We don’t even have the power to do that,” a voice said softly.
Vito.
Pinch, Tonno, and Lino all recognized him... only by the voice.
The same kid who once gave Zack one of his hardest fights—now the weakest-looking one among them. They hadn’t even felt his presence until he spoke.
“What’s up, guys?” he said with a faint smile, hunched over like the others. “No pity for old friends?”
“You were never a friend, Vito. Never!” Lino snapped.
Tonno’s face tightened—conflicted at the sight of previous gangmates, even if it was for a short time.
“You guys are lucky,” Vito said. “Tonno’s dad works in a bakery—he must be leaving food for you. And Mira can sneak stuff from her orphanages. But we’re dying out here.”
He stepped forward, the other boys dragging themselves aside to make room.
“Our neighborhood got it the worst. Hell’s broken loose in our streets. Coppers and mobsters clashing all week. And half the criminals of the whole damn city live here—so we’re the ones paying for it.”
"Half of us were taken to jail for theft—like Jax."
He pointed at one kid.
“His cousin worked nights at a casino. Then one evening these men walked in straight into the manager’s room. Nobody saw what they did, but they carried him out after—not walking. And the next day… every worker who looked nervous got kicked out. They said the casino needed to ‘remember who owns it.’”
He pointed at another.
“That one’s foster father got dragged in for an old crime record we thought the coppers forgot existed. But now suddenly they remember.”
Another.
“And his dad—a bartender—got beaten by some… some Marviano Don’s men.”
His crew hissed at him.
“Quiet! What if someone hears you?”
“I DON'T CARE!”
His voice cracked.
“I… don’t… care…”
His legs buckled. He fell to his knees.
“Let them come…so they can end us already.”
Silence hovered after Vito’s words.
No one moved. No one breathed.
Until Lino spat on the ground.
“I wish it happened sooner rather than later,” he muttered.
Tonno turned, frowning. “Lino… come on. That’s too much.”
Lino’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Have you forgotten, Tonno? It all started with these punks joining the gang! Zack deserting us! The muggings that trashed our name, the days I spent fixing it in the streets! Mira’s—”
He stopped, biting his lip, trying to swallow the memory whole.
Tonno stepped closer, voice calm but firm. “I… didn’t forget. But—look at them.”
Lino barked, furious. “I’ve seen them! And I don’t pity them one bit! They can just drop dead for all I care!”
Before he could say more, Tonno lunged. A savage headbutt snapped Lino back, staggering him.
The Red Corner kids froze. Pinch screamed from the rooftop.
“No fighting, guys!” he yelled, abandoning his perch and running down the stairs.
The little girl backed off, anxious and more scared.
Lino sprawled on the ground, stars and birds dancing behind his eyes. He shook his head, clearing the daze.
“What the hell was that for?” he barked.
Tonno crouched beside him, voice steady. “I’m not making the same mistake we made back then.”
Lino scoffed. “What mistake?!”
"Watching a friend talk like that and not standing up to them!" The response came instantly.
Then—
Tonno’s tone softened, almost a whisper. “Just now… you sounded like Zack.”
The words hit Lino harder than the headbutt.
Tonno carried on.
“That day, we watched him dream of ruling the streets with fear when he invited the Red Corner kids in. None of us stopped him. Mira almost did… but she didn’t. I’m not letting the same happen to you, my best friend.”
Lino blinked, caught between shock and grudging understanding.
“You… headbutt your best friends like that?”
Tonno offered his hand, helping Lino to his feet. “I just learned how.”
Lino grasped it, ignoring the sting still pulsing in his forehead. A small, rueful smile cracked through.
Pinch finally reached the ground, sprinting straight to Luna.
“Look what you’ve done, you two! You scared her! You were supposed to save her!”
Tonno jabbed a finger at Lino. “Well, it’s his fault. Not mine.”
Lino shot back, glaring. “Says the guy who cracked my skull! I’m gonna get you for that!”
Pinch stomped his foot, raising his tiny voice. “STOP BEING BABIES!”
The seven-year-old’s shout made the two boys, almost twice his size, freeze mid-squabble. They shrank slightly, exchanging sideways glares.
Pinch turned to the little girl, grinning.
“Sometimes they are idiots.”
Luna peeked out from behind Pinch, her wide eyes slowly softening. Something about the absurdity of this scene—the tiny boy scolding the big ones, the protective bickering—made her giggle despite herself.
Tonno and Lino were still tense, protective in their own way, but now they were side by side, whispering curses under their breaths a minute after calling each other their best friend.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Tonno’s lips moved silently, spelling out a clear YOU-ARE-DEAD, while Lino just stuck his tongue out at him.
The girl laughed, a bright, unexpected sound in the grim streets.
The Red Corner kids absorbed the scene. They’d never seen anything like this. Loyalty, protectiveness, teasing without cruelty—something they didn’t have. Maybe that was part of why they had fallen into the chaos they were in. The Wolves had something stronger than fear or toughness—they had each other.
Lino looked now seriously at his two companions.
“So what do we do? Apart from doing the right thing and bleh-bleh-bleh-bleh—I need them to prove they won’t get back to their old ways once they gain strength. And I’m not talking out of grudge, but we have to be smart.”
Tonno—seeing his friend genuinely calm—didn’t argue.
“You got a point. We need something from them.”
Pinch spoke, innocent but steady.
“But now… they have nothing. They’re hungry.”
Tonno and Lino exchanged a glance and chuckled softly. Simple words—but true.
Lino turned to Vito and the Red Corner kids.
“A’right. You wait here. We’ll fetch you something and get back.”
“But don’t set foot on our turf,” he added sharply. “We don’t trust you yet! We’ll talk to Leo about… well… something long-term for you guys. Not just you. The rest of the neighborhoods as well.”
Then—
"Before we leave..." Tonno spoke. "Has any of you seen Zack?"
Everyone nodded sideways.
Vito spoke... barely.
"Not since that day."
Lino, Pinch and Tonno looked to the ground, unsure what to feel about Zack still missing, even in those hard times.
Is he in jail too like Jax?
Did he get caught for slashing Daniel's face and stabbing Mira?
Did he change?
...
Did he die?
No one knew yet.
"I see..." Lino said. Then, louder. "We will see you in a minute with some bread."
A murmur passed through the Red Corner kids—quiet, shaky, disbelieving.
A skinny boy blinked hard, as if expecting the offer to vanish if he looked too hopeful. One girl, dirt streaked across her cheek, pressed her hands to her chest, trying not to cry. Another kid wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded quickly, almost frantic with relief. They weren’t smiling—but their faces softened, tension loosening in tiny, fragile cracks.
Vito stayed quiet.
He was too weak to speak more.
But his eyes followed Lino and the others—wide, hungry, shimmering with something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. His lips parted, not to talk but to breathe in the thought of food, the promise of help.
He clutched his stomach with both hands. For the first time today, it wasn’t from pain.
The trio turned to leave.
"I just noticed—" Lino said. "You haven't said one word. You can't talk?" addressing the girl.
She nodded sideways. Yet the smile stayed on her face in the presence of the three.
Pinch jogged ahead, then gently took her hand.
“We’ll get something for you too.”
And together, they walked off.
Alex found Dante waiting near the agree spot—the city center's library so they can walk together home, slouched on the stone railing, dark circles under his eyes, clutching a book in one hand and a half-snapped pencil in the other. The kid looked like he’d gone twelve rounds with Leo.
Alex’s irritation from Daniel eased the moment he saw Dante like this.
Small. Exhausted.
Trying so hard to learn.
Alex’s face cracked into a bright smile.
“Who’s the winner today?”
Dante dragged a hand down his face.
“Mountain,” he muttered. “Took me forever to spell the thing. I’ll show you the rest at home... But hey, the library in the city center is nice. I like studying there during the day.”
Alex nodded, still grinning like the sun didn’t know how to set around him.
The two started walking.
Dante kept mumbling words under his breath, rehearsing the new ones he learned and only now noticed the big cloth bag Alex was carrying with both hands.
“What’s in there?” he asked.
“Bread.” Alex answered.
Dante blinked.
“That? Alex… that’s like… three-day bread, man. Tomorrow it’s gonna be harder than your skull. Not the smartest idea.”
Alex shook his head.
“Not for us, Dante.”
As he said that, he stopped in front of the same crumbling building—the one where the street vendor had been dragged out by the police that morning. The gray stones looked even sicker now in the late afternoon light.
He stepped inside. Dante followed without a word, too tired to ask or guess, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Alex walked straight to the first door on the left.
A soft knock.
“Hello? Anybody here?”
His voice gentle yet loud enough to tell that this is not a cop’s, not a mobster’s.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
The door cracked open.
A woman stared out through the gap, thin as a broomstick, with hollow cheeks, loose hair pinned badly, and a cotton dress so worn it might’ve been gray or brown or simply dirt.
“What do you want?” she snapped, not widening the door.
Alex swallowed.
“Are you… a family of the street vendor who was taken away this morning?”
“Wife,” she said, flat and cold.
“Is he back yet?”
“Coppers took him. He won't.”
Alex lowered his head slightly.
“…Do you work? Do you have any source of inc—”
Her glare sharpened instantly.
“What is this interrogation? Coppers sending kids now?”
“No—no, believe me,” Alex stammered. “I just want to help.”
He reached into the bag, took out a single piece of bread, and held it out gently.
“Here.”
The woman lunged for it.
She tore the bread from his hand and shoved half of it into her mouth in one go.
A starving person’s instinct overriding every scrap of dignity she had left.
Her hands shook with hunger as crumbs fell down her dress.
Her eyes flicked to the bag.
More bread.
“Give them to me.”
Alex stepped back, startled, anxious.
He could feel the weight of the moment—helping could become enabling, or humiliating, or dangerous.
Dante stepped in, tired but sharp.
“Hey. You’re starving, yeah, we get it— but what the hell are you yelling for?”
The woman bared her teeth in frustration.
“I got no time for manners! Give me the food! I still have his brats inside to feed!”
Behind her, four children peeked around the corner — tiny shapes in ragged clothes, pale as chalk, eyes wide and sunken.
They froze when they saw Alex and Dante, then hid half their faces behind the doorframe.
Alex’s expression cracked.
He counted quickly.
Then reached back into the bag, grabbing four pieces.
He handed them over one by one, soft voice trembling, with Dante watching his back from the hungry woman.
“They’re not brats… They’re your children.” Alex said, not looking her in the eye as he stepped away from the door.
But she wasn’t listening.
Before Alex even finished speaking—
The door crashed shut.
Inside, shouting erupted immediately.
Furniture scraping.
Thuds.
Children crying.
Chaos, not gratitude.
Dante’s jaw tightened, as he spat on the door.
“…Animal. She is still hungry—not caring for even her own children.”
Alex stared at the wood for a long second, shoulders dropped.
He opened the bag, checked what was left.
He took one piece for himself and then set the entire remaining bag quietly on the floor in front of the door.
He knocked once.
A soft knock.
Then he turned and walked away, head down, Dante following behind him.
The building swallowed the sounds of their footsteps.
Alex and Dante stepped out of the building, letting the humid stairwell air fall behind them like a heavy curtain. Outside, the street felt colder— or maybe it was just quieter.
Suddenly, he heard it.
“Hey, Alex!” Tonno called from across the street, walking beside Pinch, Lino, and the mute girl—Luna.
Before anyone could react, the girl sprinted toward Alex.
Alex blinked—she knew him.
She skidded to a halt right in front of him and looked up with enormous eyes.
And then—
she bowed.
Clumsily. Too fast. Like someone who had seen others do it and tried her best to copy it.
Not a sound left her mouth.
She lifted her hands and signed in small, hesitant motions:
a hand to her mouth.
a circle over her stomach.
both palms pressed together like “finished.”
Then she pointed at Alex’s chest.
Dante blinked.
“…Is she saying she ate?”
Lino, Tonno, and Pinch caught up.
Tonno squinted.
“You know her?”
“Ah—yes,” Alex said softly. “I gave her some food yesterday. I think she recognized me.”
Luna—nodded eagerly and raised her thumb.
The gesture was awkward, stiff, but proud, like it wasn’t something she practiced often.
Alex stared for a heartbeat too long.
All the exhaustion, the doubts, the slammed door earlier—
they cracked open for a moment.
He mirrored her thumbs-up.
Then, instinctively, he began signing back—badly.
“I—Give—You—Food—Tomorrow—Too,” he said aloud while tapping his own chest, pointing at her, then circling his hands.
He looked absolutely ridiculous—earnest, sincere, hopelessly gentle.
Dante watched him, smirking despite himself.
Pinch tugged Lino’s sleeve. “Um… Alex? Is he okay?”
Lino raised an eyebrow. “What’re you doing—casting a spell on her?”
Tonno collapsed to his knees laughing.
Alex froze.
“…Oh. Right. I tried to talk like her out of reflex.”
He scratched the back of his head, mortified.
But Luna understood.
She nodded so hard her braid bounced, a small, bright grin stretching across her thin face.
Alex turned to the Wolves.
“Guys… if you ever run short on food—just tell me. I have savings.”
Tonno waved him off.
“For now we’re good. We’re just handing this one”—he nudged Luna gently—“some stuff today.”
Lino added, “And the Red Corner.”
Dante’s brows shot up. “They’re still around?”
“Barely,” Lino said. “Poor punks are hardly recognizable.”
Pinch puffed his chest proudly.
“If you run short, Alex—tell us! We share!! Leo gives us leftovers from his work, Tonno’s dad gives us bread, and Mira brings food from her orphanage.”
"We're in this together." Tonno smiled. "Now let's go before the bakery runs out. We'll see you around."
Alex watched them walk off, his hand still half-raised.
Dante looked at him, still amused by Luna's gestures.
“So... that’s what you were doing all week with the money from the party's tuxedoes Dominick got us? Buying bread and handing it out to the poor like that little girl?”
Alex nodded once.
“Isn’t it crazy? We wore something that… could feed whole neighborhoods for weeks?”
“Yep,” Dante replied. “And those weren’t even their real prices. Half maybe. Haggling on the prices of those kinds of dresses is just... impossible"
Then, he smirked.
"Luckily it wasn't you who negotiated."
Alex chuckled weakly.
"Well... haggling isn't my thing. You're much better at it and I'm still not used to that... part here."
Dante snorted, and carried on.
“City doesn’t deserve us, buddy. I mean, look—You give one little girl enough joy…”
His eyes flicked toward the building behind them.
“…and inside, who knows? That hungry whore’s probably tearing into the bread like it wronged her, and later she’ll yell at her own children for taking a bite.”
Alex just stared.
At the cracked walls.
The shuttered windows.
At the door he’d left a bag of kindness in front of—kindness that probably did more bad than good—kindness that sparked an argument, made four little stomachs panic again, maybe even made them cry.
Yet he also saw the memory of a small girl’s grateful grin.
“Dante… you think it’ll change anything?”
“You’re smart,” Dante murmured. “You already know the answer.”
Alex breathed out, defeated.
“So I’m doing all this… into the void? In vain?”
“Poverty ain’t something one kid can bully into submission,” Dante said plainly. “Kindness is… not enough. I know that’s your thing, but truth’s the truth. I’ve lived here long enough.”
Suddenly, something stopped him short.
“But look.”
He jerked his chin toward the windows of the same building.
Four tiny faces were squeezed against the glass.
One child was chewing so fast crumbs stuck to his cheeks.
Another waved frantically with both hands.
A third elbowed for space, nearly toppling the rest.
The fourth simply smiled — wide, pure, bread stuck at the corner of her mouth like a badge of victory.
All four ate from the bag he left by the door before leaving.
Dante’s voice softened.
“What you’re doing… is not in vain.”
Alex stared.
Maybe he didn’t save the world.
But he fed four kids.
And he made one little girl smile.
For today… that wasn’t nothing.
“My share,” Alex said finally. “From the tuxedoes. I’m going to keep using it like this.”
Dante scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, I used mine on letters, paper, the pen I’m studying with… and I still got some left. Wanted to save it, last me a while.”
He shrugged.
“But hell. If you need extras—tell me.”
Alex smiled quietly. “Thank you, Dante. Ah—here.”
He held out the last piece of bread he took from the bag earlier.
“All of it?” Dante asked.
Alex nodded.
“Yes. I ate at mister Harris' shop. Besides, we have the soup and some vegetables at home. So this is yours. A reward for your hard work and studying.”
Dante took the bread.
For a moment, he just held it.
The little piece somehow felt heavier.
A symbol of how the boy from the mountains with nothing had walked into his life and changed its shape… in less than five months.
They walked on—two silhouettes disappearing into the narrowing streets, side by side, closer than ever.
