Laughter echoed through the hall in a fortress, another building for a mafia that doesn't pretend to be civilized nor waste time in getting his hands stained with blood.

Luca Marchetti.

He grinned as he circled the children lined up in the middle of the seated guests. The sight of them shivering, silent as though trained through pain made him giggle.

“ These are fresh blood, people, and we all know how good they taste.” He said ironically.

The four other guests laughed, ...