Dante
The war room at the Caruso estate stank of blood and smoke. The walls felt too tight, the air too thick. Screens flickered, throwing ghostly light across grim faces. Adriano paced like a caged animal, his jaw clenched, every step hammering against marble. Don Caruso sat at the head of the table, still as stone, eyes glinting like steel in the glow of the monitors.
And me—I stood over the footage, fists pressed flat to the table, staring at the frozen frame.
Serafina. Dragged into the dark.
Beside her—Rafé. And behind him, clearer now under the zoom—Dom Costa.
My stomach twisted with rage.
“Rafé,” I muttered, teeth grinding. “That snake. That traitor.” My eyes cut to Adriano. “He took her from under your roof.”
Adriano stopped pacing, fists curling at his sides. “You thi
