C25 Fuel For The Fire

Drake de Marco stood in the dimly lit study of Donatello’s estate, the scent of alcohol and cigar smoke thick in the air.

Pablo Fabrizio leaned against the desk, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. Maria sat in the corner, a fresh glass of brandy in hand, her face unreadable as she watched the men plot.

Donatello tapped at the worn photograph against his palm