#Chapter 92 - Escalating violence

Aldo I sat alone in my study, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me like an anchor. A map of the city sprawled across my otherwise barren desktop, lit only by the fading rays of the dying sun. I was too focused, too tired, to get up and switch on a light. I couldn’t pull my attention from the array of pins spread across the map. Each one represented the location of another attack, another disruption, another sign that Michael Rossetti and his shadowed crew were getting bolder. Stronger. More determined. And yet, despite their bold and blatant daytime, often public, warfare, they were like phantoms—impossible to track. Impossible to find. Impossible to predict. I had no idea where they were until it was too late—until they’d popped out of the dark to leave a path of chaos in their wake. A rapt knock at my door preceded Carlo’s entrance. He slid soundlessly inside, closed the door behind him. “Sitting in the dark, Vas?” “My head hurts too much to turn on a light.”