The air in the Syndicate’s Naples stronghold was thick with cigar smoke and tension.

A long mahogany table stretched down the dimly lit chamber, lined with men who controlled empires from the shadows. Their faces were a mix of age-worn cunning and ruthless youth, each bearing the kind of eyes that had seen lives taken and fortunes built from blood.

In the midst of all this was one who held far more authority and dread than all of them ...