Frustration

Donato’s POV

The room smelled of metal and antiseptic. The kind of scent that stuck to your clothes and followed you long after you left. The light above buzzed faintly, too bright in the center and too dim around the edges, casting shadows across the files scattered on the table. Receipts, reports, photographs of men who swore loyalty to us were pinned to a board at the side. Their faces stared