Chapter 3 - Blood and BrotherhoodThe penthouse living room was pitch black except for the amber glow of the city grid below.
Rocco stood near the elevator, waiting with a suppressed tension that hummed in the air.
“Boss?” Rocco asked as Dante walked out.
Dante didn't answer right away. He walked over to the mahogany desk, pulled open a hidden drawer, and lifted his custom Sig Sauer P226, checking the magazine with a sharp, metallic click.
“Where is Julian?” Dante asked.
“At the downtown office,” Rocco said carefully. “Reviewing the midnight shipment manifests.”
Dante slipped the pistol into his holster and straightened his jacket. His face had gone entirely blank—the terrifying, expressionless mask of the man who had built the Cavallaro empire on absolute, unyielding loyalty.
“Get the car,” Dante said, his voice devoid of any human warmth.
“Boss... are you sure?” Rocco swallowed hard. “He’s your brother.”
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Dante stopped at the elevator doors, his dark eyes fixing on Rocco with a look so cold it made the veteran enforcer step back.
“He stopped being my brother the day he put that mark on her,” Dante said quietly. “Bring the car around. We’re going to have a family meeting.”
