The heavy silence in the room clung like a dense fog.

Dante’s gaze swept across the table where the heads of each family sat.

Their expressions were guarded and their postures tense.

The room itself, a stark but luxurious meeting space with polished mahogany furniture and walls lined with intricate carvings of Acadia's mafia history, seemed to mirror the unease in the air. Matteo was looking pale but steady enough as he sat with an air of quiet authority.

While Mikhail leaned back, his sharp, tailored suit emphasizing his confident demeanor.

Though his smirk had been replaced by an uncharacteristic frown.

They were all waiting.

For Romano Baggva.

Dante sat...