The room slipped into an uneasy stillness after Stephen’s pointed remarks, yet Dante did not react. He remained seated, a cigarette between his fingers, drawing from it slowly as if nothing else in the room required his attention.
The calm on his face unsettled people.
Emilia sat rigidly beside him, her posture straight, her hands clenched together on her lap. She glanced sideways at Dante, her eyes sharp with warning. This was not someone to provoke. Stephen Keel was not like the others. His father’s authority could erase lives quietly, efficiently.
Her thoughts spiraled. Dante might still have resources hidden beneath the surface, but political power was a different kind of weapon. She feared what Stephen could do if pushed too far.
Zee leaned in slightly, tension visible in the tigh
