Chapter 71

• The private lounge smelled of aged whiskey and secrets, a neutral ground carved into the underbelly of Chicago's elite, where men like them could pretend, for an hour, that they weren't predators circling the same prey.
• Matteo Deluca arrived first.
• He settled into the leather booth with the ease of a man who owned every room he entered, Lorenzo flanking him like a shadow, two guards positioning themselves at the door. His suit was immaculate, charcoal grey, Italian cut, but his eyes held the cold fire of a man who had nothing left to lose.