The night had deepened into that quiet, suffocating hour where even the wind seemed to hesitate, when Falcon's phone lit up against the darkness of the room, the sharp glow cutting through the stillness like a blade.
He didn't need to check the caller ID. He already knew.He picked up.The voice on the other end spoke in Italian, low and controlled, carrying the faint distortion of distance.
"Mi dispiace… dev'essere notte fonda da te."
(Sorry… it must be deep into the night over there.)
Falcon leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed ahead, his tone flat."It doesn't matter," he replied, just as cold. "Tell me what you found—who was King taking orders from?" There was a brief pause on the line.
Not hesitation. Calculation.
"Not directly," the voice admitted, quieter now. "But what we uncovered points in one direction… whoever is behind King is connected to the Montgomery family—someone with influence… someone high enough to operate without being questioned."
