The courtyard lights shuddered as if the mansion itself recoiled from the old man's presence.
Galiver stood unmoving, framed by fog and moonlight, the black envelope gleaming in his hand like a weapon.
Alessia's pulse hammered in her ears. The man smelled of soil and smoke — as if he had crawled from his own grave to deliver this message.
Luca stepped forward, his expression unreadable, his aura tightening into something dangerous. The guards raised their guns, waiting for a single nod.
He gave none.
"Lower your weapons," Luca ordered, his voice calm, but it cut through the air like a blade.
"But sir.... " Fredo his personal body guard tried to speak
"I said lower them." Luca said in a commanding tone.
The guards obeyed. The night seemed to hold its breath.
Galiver's lips curved faintly. "Still commanding death with a whisper, I see. You haven't changed, Don Luca."
