Dante’s POV

The room was thick with tension. My men stood quietly, shoulders rigid, eyes shifting nervously as if one wrong move would bring down my wrath, waiting for me to address them. I stood at the front, my eyes cold and steady, studying their faces and trying to figure out who could be trusted and who needed to be weeded out. The recent attack had shaken my operations, and I wouldn’t stand for weakness or betrayal.

My hand rested on the polished wood of the table before me, and I ...