Chapter 47 Horace's Stewing

• The following night, Horace stepped into the dim backroom of Marcello’s steakhouse, a place the council often used for quiet meetings. The smell of charred beef and red wine lingered in the air, but the table at the far end was empty save for one man, Sam, the owner of the steakhouse, one of the elder councilors, known for his slick tongue and slower smile.
• Horace didn’t wait for pleasantries. He dropped into the chair opposite him, his presence filling the space like a storm.
• Sam arched a brow. “Horace. You requested this meeting quick.”