Chapter 75

The room was cloaked in a chilly atmosphere, punctuated by wisps of cigarette smoke swirling from the lips of a middle-aged man seated at its center, his exhalations blending with the air around him.

A fire place crackled by the side, its flame providing an angry red glow on the wall.

He dragged the cigarette to his cold lips once again and puffed out balls of smoke.

His eyes were fixed on the television before him, it carried news of a destruction in a warehouse, one of Emilio's warehouse.

A snide smile broke on his thin lips and he rubbed his hands which had been concealed by thick gloves together, basking in the little warmth provided against the harsh weather.

The biting cold rendered the room almost unbearable, each exhale visible in the frigid air. Dmitry Ivanov, a man in his early sixties, retained the same aura of power and brutality he had wielded two decades prior when he ruled over native crime syndicates with an iron fist.

His hair had speckles of grey in them and a th