The old Serpent Gang headquarters was unrecognizable.
Where there had once been a decrepit building reeking of drugs, cigarettes, and desperation, now stood something that could almost be called respectable.
The walls had been cleaned and repainted in dark, professional colors. The floors were polished. The furniture was new and functional. Proper lighting had been installed throughout, replacing the flickering bulbs that had barely illuminated the decay.
The renovations had cost a significant portion of their operational budget, but Damian had insisted on it.
If the Mafia was going to control territory, they needed a proper base of operations. Not some disgusting hovel that stank of the previous owners' failures.
Rain poured down outside, hammering against the windows in steady rhythm, creating a backdrop of white noise that filled the large meeting room.
Nearly a hundred people were gathered inside.
