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DAMIAN

Soon, Genovese and I are seated opposite each other. His smile is tight and his fingers drum an unsteady rhythm on the table.

“You've got a nice place here, Damian,” he comments, voice oozing false charm.

“Glad you think so,” I reply, shuffling the cards. In that moment, I can't wait for the day where I'd have to put a bullet through his skull. “I hear you've been struggling though