"I didn't expect the Bratva's tech queen to be quite so... captivating," Lorenzo's voice dripped with irony as he observed Galina, who was absorbed in deciphering a web of encrypted data.
Galina's gaze remained fixed on her screens, her expression a...
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The creak of the worn leather beneath me was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, a low groan beneath the weight of the world. I sat, reclined in my chair, the fire crackling in the hearth like the last embers of a dying soul. The light danced upon the thick wood of the walls, the wind howling outside in a mad, unrelenting frenzy. I flicked through the manifest, the paper rustling under my fingertips like whispers in the dark. Tomorrow, I would leave for Camorra, and a heavy unease settled in my chest, tighter with each turn of the page. Was I ready for whatever awaited there? Could anyone be?
A sharp voice sliced through the stillness, jolting me from my thoughts, urgent, laced with tension.
"Signore Marchetti, we have a situation that requires your immediate attention." Antonio's silhouette filled the doorway, his form barely more than a shadow in the faint glow of the hallway lights. His tone was tight, drawn.
I didn't look up. Not yet. The ledger was more pressing for now. "What is it, Antonio?" My voice was steady, casual, though I felt the stir of something cold in the pit of my stomach.
"It's about Senator Rossi. He's asking questions about the ammunition deal... Seems he's gotten a bit too curious for his own good."
A slow exhale slipped from my lips as I set the ledger aside. The fingers of my right hand pressed against my temple, massaging the tension there, willing it to dissipate, though it was a futile effort. Politicians. Always sniffing around like rats, seeking crumbs of knowledge they had no right to. "Damn politicians," I muttered, the words low, nearly a growl. "Always sticking their noses where they don't belong."
I gestured toward the door with a flick of my wrist. "Let's see what this fool wants."
The chill of the room seeped deeper into my bones as I leaned back once more, allowing the cold air from the AC to settle around me. The silence was suffocating now, an unspoken tension rising in the room. I could feel the weight of the moments dragging on, each second longer than the last. Then, footsteps—deliberate, purposeful—approached the door. Three sharp knocks broke the stillness. I waited. One... two... three. The door swung open.
Senator Rossi entered, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. His eyes flickered uneasily, a sickly sheen of sweat on his brow. His smile was a poor imitation of politeness, a mask that barely concealed the rot beneath.
