The safehouse was silent, buried beneath an abandoned slaughterhouse on the outskirts of Palermo. The stink of old blood still clung to the walls, long since dried and darkened to rust. It was fitting, the Vulture thought, as he stood in the cold shadows and waited.He had not chosen this place by accident.He wanted the ghosts here. The memory of violence. The echo of bone against concrete. It made things… clear.Footsteps echoed down the corridor, crisp, sure. No hesitation. No fear.Good. That was why he’d chosen him.Dario Vescari stepped into the room, dressed in black from throat to heel, his silver hair combed neatly back, a jagged scar peeking from beneath his collar. Sharp eyes swept the space once, twice, then landed on the man leaning against the steel table.“You’re real,” Dario said, voice calm. Curious.The Vulture didn’t move. “So are you. Disappointing, isn’t it?”Dario smirked, faint but real. “We’ve been circling the same carcass for years. You picking the bones now,
Last Updated : 2025-05-23 Read more