The estate did not echo.
It absorbed.
Stone walls, iron chandeliers, long corridors washed in muted gold — nothing here raised its voice. Even fear entered quietly.
Alessandro de Luca stood at the far end of the council chamber, hands clasped behind his back, gaze lowered not in submission but in calculation.
He did not pace.
He did not shout.
He did not need to.
Across from him, three pack enforcers waited — broad-shouldered, disciplined, and deeply aware that silence could be sharper than claws.
Marco stood slightly behind him.
Loyal. Uneasy.
"The report," Alessandro said calmly.
The first enforcer stepped forward and handed over a tablet. "The leak was internal."
"How internal?"
"Circle-adjacent."
That meant someone close enough to understand the stakes.
Not a random fool.
Not a brat chasing gossip.
Strategic.
Alessandro read without expression.
A photograph.
A timestamp.
A forwarded message.
Campus courtyard.
Elara.
The image wasn't scandalous.
