ADVERTISEMENT
kind.
Then Dante Corvino walked in.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a charcoal overcoat damp from rain.
He was not flashy.
There were no rings, no cologne cloud, no theatrical swagger.
What made people move was the restraint in him.
He looked like a man who had spent years mastering the worst parts of himself and only become more dangerous for it.continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT