Demetrio's POV
The scent of expensive leather and cold steel hung heavy in my office, a familiar combination that usually calmed the beast in my chest. Tonight, it did nothing. Tonight, the beast was awake and hungry.
"We rounded up eight of them. Had we been a second late, they'd have torched the f*****g place." Dominic's voice cut through the office like a blade, his expression carved from granite and fury. The leather of his jacket strained against his biceps as he crossed his arms, muscles coiled and ready for violence.
I stood at the window overlooking the city, its skyline glittering like a woman dressed for a funeral, beautiful and cold. The Russians had just tried to f**k with my biggest drug warehouse, a business responsible for eighty percent of the syndicate's income. Eighty
