Luciano didn’t react at once. His face stayed unreadable, frozen like a mask carved from stone. But the air in the room shifted—heavy, sharp, electric.
“With whom?” he asked, his voice cutting like a blade.
“With Marcus Romulus,” Dario answered, the words landing between them like a weight.
A long silence followed.
Luciano walked toward the window. His silhouette merged with the evening sky beyond the glass. When he finally spoke, his voice was low—almost a whisper.
“So that’s why you wanted to be free, Lucci.”
Dario didn’t dare interrupt.
Luciano dragged a hand across his face—a harsh movement, as if he were trying to scrape away memories.
“Belucci…” he murmured. “Did you sell yourself? Or did they sell you?”
He turned sharply to Dario.
“Double the surveillance. I need everythin
