The Manchester Mafia

In Manchester, blood doesn't connect family, it connects loyalty. In Manchester, it's not what you know, but who you know. And in Manchester, Wesley Greene is in for a rude awakening.

"You're nothing here," she spat.

Wesley drew in a deep breathe. His father had flown them across the world to deeper their connections. But for what?
For the same thing that occured in America. People to shun them, hate them, despise them.
Except now it was flipped. In America, they had been too powerful, had too many connections. They were something. Here, although he hated to even admit she was right, in the back of his mind he knew. They were nothing.

But he would make a name for the Manhatten Mafia. One way, or another.

Wesley lifted up the gun, the barrel pointed straight at Addison.

"If I'm nothing, then the murder of the Princess of the Manchester Mafia will make me something."

The sound of a solid hit echoed in his ears.