ROMAN’S P.O.V.
The Phoenix had fine suites, luxury suites for relaxation, business, and everything in between, but this private room wasn’t built for comfort—it was built for fear.
The dim lights cast long, distorted shadows across the walls of dull blood red. The air here was thick, heavy with what was to come. The only light came from a single small chandelier above the center table, and even that light was faint, flickering on and off for effect, like a spotlight in an interrogation room.
The walls here were soundproof; I could slowly peel Matteo's skin from his bones, and no one would hear it. He could scream till he lost his voice and the world outside would never know.
The long steel table sat between the two of us, heavy with the weight of all mine and Alberto's favorite weapon
