Bruto -

In the rust-caked docks of Old Genoa, there was a man known only as . He wasn’t a villain, but he wasn’t a hero either. He was a force of nature, standing six-foot-five with hands that looked like they had been forged in a shipyard rather than grown in a womb.

He reached the front line and stopped. He looked at Vane, who sat safely behind the tinted glass of a black SUV. Bruto didn’t use a weapon. He reached down, gripped the bumper of the two-ton vehicle, and with a grunt that seemed to shake the very foundations of the pier, he tilted it onto two wheels. In the rust-caked docks of Old Genoa, there

When Bruto saw Mateo being shoved into the mud, something shifted. He didn’t scream; he didn't charge. He simply walked. Each footstep cracked the pavement beneath his boots. The enforcers stepped forward, batons raised, but Bruto moved through them like a gale through tall grass. He reached the front line and stopped