Dante's POV
The Moretti compound sat on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by high walls and iron gates that spoke to old money and even older power.
Dante sat in the back of the SUV as Marco drove through the gates, his expression calm and controlled despite the tension that filled the vehicle. Vincenzo sat beside him, his hand resting casually near his weapon, his eyes scanning the grounds as they approached the main house.
The mansion was impressive in the way that old Italian estates were—sprawling and elegant, with manicured gardens and marble columns that gleamed in the afternoon sun. It was the kind of place that had been in the Moretti family for generations, passed down from father to son, a symbol of power and legacy that Tommaso wore like a crown.
