Dante

The atmosphere in the space was deadening. I didn’t move. Rodrigo's first son's eyes met mine, a man brave or stupid enough to say that to my face.

Inside, my blood simmered. I leant back, as my fingertips just graced the cold metal of the armrest. When I finally spoke, my voice was steadier, lower, almost bored.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” I stated, still not breaking eye contact with him. “I have many people under me. What next, you think I can add up all the ...