Raven dropped into the chair beside Vincent like her legs had finally given out. The obsidian table slammed cold against her palms. No knife on her hip today. First time in weeks. Her heart still slammed anyway, hard enough she felt it in her teeth.
Across from them Alessandro Caruso sat like he owned the damn air. Silver threading his temples. Suit sharp enough to cut. Eyes flat with that never-lost-a-thing entitlement that made her want to reach for steel she wasn't carrying. The Widowmaker stood at his shoulder, half a blade already drawn, hate rolling off her so thick it crawled up Raven's neck and tightened every muscle there.
Alessandro spoke first. Voice smooth. Bored. Same tone he used when he sent her out to bleed for him.
"She was raised by us. Trained by us. She belongs to us."
