Sterling didn't speak.
He simply handed Kieran the tablet.
The screen lit up.
Jason was on his knees.
But it wasn't the blood that twisted Kieran's gut — it was the presentation.
Harsh, clinical LED panels flooded the screen, making the underground chamber look like a high-end studio.
And there, in the center, was Dante. He was wearing a grey Armani suit, looking as if he were headed to a gala, calmly adjusting a strand of his slicked-back hair while Jason's screams tore through the speakers.
"You didn't capture my smile," Dante's voice purred through the speakers
Kieran watched, his knuckles turning white as he saw his cousin—the man he'd shared blood with—treat the torture of Jason like a film set. But it was the conversation that broke him.
He heard Jason whisper: "She... she has a son. She's... married."
