The tension between Ryan and Bruno still hung in the air like a storm that refused to break. The noise of Frenando’s bustling evening crowd swelled around them, clattering plates, bursts of laughter, music thumping from the speakers, yet their table remained an island of quiet hostility.
Ryan didn’t look at Bruno again.
He didn’t need to.
His words had landed cleanly, cutting exactly where they needed to, leaving no doubt about where he stood, or who he stood for now.
He lifted the glass of water in front of him and took a slow sip, his gaze drifting past Bruno as if the man had already ceased to exist.
Bruno shifted slightly in his seat. The bravado he entered with had dissolved into something smaller, less sure, less comfortable. He leaned back, let out a breath, and glanced away, a
