IGNAZIO
New York always smelled like war.
Not in the literal sense, of course. But in the way old blood lingered in the cracks of the sidewalks and power settled over the skyline like smoke—thick, waiting, volatile.
This city wasn’t built for peace. It was built for kings to sharpen their teeth on.
And today, I was here to remind them why they feared mine.
The moment my boots hit the marbled floor of the council’s inner chamber, I felt every eye turn. Most already aligned in judgment. The air inside was colder than the wind outside.
The ruling council of Alphas didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“State your claim?” Elder Vittore barked, his face as withered as his sense of neutrality. He didn’t like that I’d called this meeting.
I stepped forward. “There has been a breach in the
