Viktor finished his phone call just as the judge's black sedan pulled up behind his limousine. But as the elderly man in robes climbed out, something in Viktor's expression shifted. A subtle satisfaction that made my skin crawl.
"Ah, Judge Morrison," Viktor called out warmly. "Always punctual. I do appreciate that quality in a man."
The judge approached with nervous steps, clearly uncomfortable with the armed soldiers and federal agents surrounding us. But when he saw Vincenzo and Raphael, his face showed recognition.
"Don Morelli, Mister Romano," he greeted them with respectful nods. "I did not expect to see you here tonight."
My blood turned cold. The judge knew them. This was not some random corrupt official Viktor had on retainer. This was someone connected to our families.
"Judge
