The war drums had quieted, but the silence inside the Lockwood estate pulsed like a heartbeat before a strike.
Outside, the wind shifted....cooler now, sharper. Naples braced itself.
Adrian remained at the head of the table long after the last glass had been emptied and the final oath sworn. The candlelight flickered against the etched veins of his hands, steady despite the storm he knew was coming.
“We’ve bought time,” Valentina said softly beside him, her fingers brushing the rim of her untouched wine. “But time doesn’t change the game. Only how we play it.”
Adrian didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the faces in the room, noting who lingered, who avoided eye contact, who looked ready to bleed. He memorized them all.
Then finally, “We strike at Marseille next. Quietly. Preci
