Chapter 181 The Meeting

• The room in the Bear’s house where the Don was holding court, was dimly lit, heavy with tension and cigar smoke. Thick velvet curtains muffled the outside world, and the only light came from a brass chandelier overhead, casting a golden glow across dark wood panelling and the polished surface of a long mahogany table. The air was warm and close, steeped in money, blood, and old loyalties.
• The Don sat at the head of the table, an imposing figure of calm menace. Around him stood his men—silent, watchful, and ready. They were dressed in sharp suits, their broad shoulders and cold eyes marking them as soldiers of the underworld. Some leaned against the walls, arms crossed, faces carved from stone. Others stood closer, alert and coiled, hands never straying far from their jackets.
• No one spoke.