Chapter 120 What's old Auntie doing with a glock?

“Bene, bene... finalmente il gioco è finito,” Rafaele murmured, the Italian rolling off his tongue like velvet over jagged steel. He stood at the edge of the clearing, his tailored coat catching the moonlight. “La giustizia ha un sapore squisito, vero? Come un vino d'annata.” He offered a mocking, e...

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