The door of the East Wing suite clicked locked, cutting off Nina’s muffled threats. Leo stood in the hallway for a second, rubbing the bridge of his nose, a faint, rare ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips before his expression hardened back into professional detachment.

Passing the guards in the corridor, Leo headed back down toward the cellar entrance to check if he was still needed, where Giovanni stood over a weeping, bleeding Alex.

"The Mayor's boy doesn't need any medical attention, Leo," Gio said quietly, leaning against the doorframe, keeping his hands strictly in his pockets. "He's stable enough to talk."

Giovanni didn't turn around, wiping a...