Salvatore's office.
Salvatore sat on the sofa with Felix beside him. His sleeves were rolled up, a cigarette held between his fingers. He spoke seriously to Felix, glancing repeatedly at the door, his eyes narrowing slightly.
He tried not to let it bother him, but he was a bit worried now. Alben was in Milo's room.
After quite some time, Alben finally walked in. His usual cocky stride had lost some of its bounce, replaced by a look of sheer, frustrated disbelief.
Salvatore exhaled a long cloud of smoke. He wasn't patient anymore. He'd been waiting for Alben to admit his failure. He'd hoped Alben would fail.
"What did you do to that kid?" Alben asked as he slumped onto the sofa across from them. He let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "He was so scared of me. Like I was carrying a plague!"
Salvatore felt a wave of genuine relief wash over him. It wasn't just that Alben had failed; it was that Milo had actually listened.
