The heavy door to the General’s office creaked shut behind Alucard and the others.
The air inside was thick, a suffocating blend of stale papers, expensive whiskey, and something far darker: tension.
The General sat behind his desk, a grim silhouette framed by muted light.
Surrounding him, like vultures perched on a decaying carcass, stood the five Dons, their faces etched with a complex tapestry of worry, suspicion, and thinly veiled anger.
Alucard's keen eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail, every subtle nuance of expression.
His gaze lingered briefly on them .
He knew the reason for their unease.
The news they had overheard on their way into the office – snippets of hushed conversations and frantic phone calls – had settled in their stomachs like a lead weight.
