The war room didn’t feel the same after the blood had already been spilled.The maps are still there as well as the markings. Names that were written by hand had now carried weight beyond the planning.What happened last night made the names become real.It never did after blood had already been spilled.Dominic stood at the center again.But this time, he felt no anticipation and only the aftermath.Sebastian leaned against the far edge of the table, arms crossed, his expression harder than usual.Enzo is sitting half-perched on a chair, restless, fingers tapping lightly against the wood. Roberto and Antonio stood nearby, both silent but alert.Vincent remained slightly apart, recovering from a knife injury on his arm.Watching.Always watching.Seraphina stood across from Dominic, composed as ever, though her eyes carried something deeper now, something sharpened by what had nearly happened.Her guards were positioned along the edges of the room.Led by Enrico Romano, her oldest and
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