Chapter 95

• The dimly lit warehouse echoed with the sound of Rafael’s boots against the concrete floor. Shadows stretched long in the sparse light of a single hanging bulb, flickering slightly as if hesitant to illuminate what was about to unfold. Angelo stood near a stack of crates, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his face etched with unease. He knew why Rafael had called him here, and he knew this conversation wasn’t going to end well.
• Rafael stopped a few feet away, his posture rigid, his eyes burning with restrained fury. He had trusted Angelo for years, leaned on him as an ally, and welcomed him as a friend. Now, standing here, all he could see was a man who had betrayed everything they’d built.
• “Why?” Rafael’s voice was low and deliberate, the kind of tone that carried more danger than shouting ever could. “Why, Angelo?”