Chapter 22

The dusk of that day arrived with excruciating slowness, like a strip of gauze soaked in dirty blood that refused to be peeled from the Manhattan skyline.

Inside the Tribeca penthouse, the air was thick with a strange, almost sacred sense of ritual. It wasn't for a wedding, nor a funeral, but for war.

Clemenza stood before a massive full-length mirror. The woman in the glass wore black tac