The Moretti estate was colder at night.
Not because of the marble halls or the sharp winter air slipping through the antique windows but because Alessandro Moretti himself walked through it like a moving shadow, draining warmth from every corner.
Seraphina stood silently at the top of the staircase, her fingers digging into the banister as she watched her father below. He was not speaking… he was interrogating. A man knelt at his feet, trembling, his face swollen from the blows Alessandro had delivered himself.
"Loyalty," Alessandro murmured, circling the man like a predator enjoying the fear more than the kill, "is not a matter of convenience. It is blood. It is bone. Betray me, and I will break both."
The man sobbed, promising his devotion through cracked lips.
Seraphina's stomach twisted.
