Chapter 71

The Predator

“La vendetta è un piatto che si serve freddo."

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

The saying has always amused me. Who said it had to be cold? Why wait when the blood can be fresh and the screams still echo in the air? I prefer it hot, scorching, leaving a trail of devastation behind.

The sound of my fingers drumming on the chair’s armrest flowed with a steady rhythm. But I couldn’t say the same about violence roaring in my bones.

I stretched in the chair, the leather creaking under me, and my eyes trailed lazily around the room. It was one of the private offices in the villa—mine, specifically. Three different faces of evil aka my fathers sat around the table with their faces set in different levels of annoyance, curiosity, and something that vaguely resembled amusement.

Twenty minutes.

And they were still waiting.

Waiting for me to speak, waiting for an explanation for Donatello’s murder. Not j