ALESSIO’S POV
Pressure announces itself long before it arrives.
It starts with silence where there should be noise, with delays that feel intentional, with men who hesitate before answering questions they used to respond to without pause. I felt it the morning after Seraphina chose me, the moment I stepped into the city and sensed resistance pushing quietly against my authority.
Rome does not rebel loudly. It resists subtly.
The first call came before sunrise.
Matteo.
“You should come to the house,” he said. “Now.”
I didn’t ask why. I was already dressed.
The De Luca residence has seen generations of power shift through its halls. It is old stone and inherited weight, the kind of place that remembers blood even after it has been washed away. When I entered the main room, Lorenzo a
