didn't

e photo until h

her. The quiet uncle. The trusted adviser. The

en behind Danilo like a ghost i

orchest

s crunching over spilled glass. The edges of tru

and torched the rest of the conte

nto the air li

nfront a legacy n

. Valier

ough the halls

ngerprint scanner protected it. Marco placed his father's severed thumb-

melled like wood po

untouched. Files organized

t of his grandfather. He didn't need the code. He'd

e date Salvatore

documents... and a single VHS tape

blin

in the mansion. But he

e room below the wine cellar, dust choking the scr

pe in. Static fi

it cl

age. Wareho

alone, hands tie

er jacket, steady hand, pistol poi

from offscreen. Ca

tu

. He's lost the

didn'

rred. "If you kill me... y

. "He built it. You just

whisper kept

ghtly as if someone

owered t

till th

oked up, alm

arper now. "Then you'

ped and crashed. The last frame before the static returned was

sil

sat fr

e. No signature. Bu

d to execute hi

had spa

rturo-had tried to e

lvatore keep

viper in

Loyalty wasn't about blo

o. He buried the betrayal unde

only holds f

1 a

sipping espresso, watching the

red withou

or did your guilt keep

, unfazed. "Somet

g the photo onto the glass table

at both with

u've been

r. You stood behind the man with the gun. And n

don't know the things your father did during those yea

lity," Marco said coldly. "

tand this: your father was never a king. He was a b

ng with

only one with a conscience. And you

. "Did you k

himself the day he spared your father. Afte

sing his name to dis

rstand this, Marco-power doesn't survive on sentiment. If you want

Marco, pausing

ith a gun or a question like that-b

seated long a

eren't clea

had ruled t

ruled throu

had been the last thread of hono

nilo was

one sending th

to find

omeone e