Carmela didn't fully grasp what he meant by erasing a place from existence, but the sheer gravity in Cassius's tone was enough to make her hand recoil instantly.
Even he—who had ripped a man's head off like it was made of clay, handled those strange gray-wrapped bricks as though they were delicate glass.
The way his fingers moved, the care he took in placing each one down with perfect precision, told her everything she needed to know: whatever this was, it wasn't something to trifle with.
She watched in silence as he continued arranging them one after another—on the floor, the shelves, under the desk—carefully spacing them out, layering them almost methodically.
One by one. One by one. One by one. It looked absurdly calm, almost like he was building a castle, not setting up instruments of destruction.
And as the faint clinks of metal echoed through the quiet chamber, Carmela found her curiosity growing stronger.
That, in itself, unsettled her.
