Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Whispers of the King’s Return

The wine glass spun slowly between his fingers. Not fast. Not clumsy. Just enough to keep his hand occupied while his mind worked through the latest intel. The air was thick with smoke and silence, the kind of silence that only came before something broke.

The Vulture sat in a dimly lit room that smelled of aged leather, dust, and war. He didn’t need windows. His world existed in the shadows, in the blind spots between the powerful, where influence rotted slowly and secrets festered.

His burner phone buzzed once, then again.

He answered on the third ring.

“He’s back,” said the voice on the other end. No need for names. The Vulture already knew who.

Lucien Moretti.

“Alone?” he asked, sipping from his glass.

“No,” the informant said. “The girl is with him.”

A slow grin curled at the corners of The Vulture’s mouth.

“Alive and well, I assume?”

“She is. More than that, sir, she was taken straight to his room.”

That made him still. No guest wing. No guarded quarters.

His room.

The Vulture l