BLOOD AND VOWS --- SYNOPSIS A forced marriage. A deadly alliance. A love that could ruin them both. To stop a war between two rival mafia families, Emilia Romano is forced to marry her father's enemy—Alessio Moretti, the cold, ruthless heir to a criminal empire. Neither of them wants the arrangement. Neither plans to fall in love. But when enemies close in and old secrets resurface, their fake vows become dangerously real. In this world, love isn't just forbidden—it's lethal. – Will the war actually stop? Who is Alessio Moretti? Is Emilia Romanio ever going to be free? Will love find this two egocentric couple? Let's find out in this intriguing story.
もっと見るBLOOD AND VOWS
--- CHAPTER ONE THE HIT “In this life, love doesn't kill you. Loyalty does.” - The wine glass tipped a second before the explosion. Emilia Romano didn’t hear the blast first—she felt it. A deep, gut-punch thud that rattled the floor and cracked the windows like bones snapping in a quiet room. Her father’s car. Gone. She didn’t scream. She stood there barefoot on the marble, wine dripping from her fingers, glass shattered around her feet. The air pulsed with heat from the hilltop, where smoke now curled into the twilight like a funeral veil. Rosa burst through the doors, face pale, phone shaking in her hand. “They got him. Emmy—he’s gone.” Emilia didn’t move. “Who?” But she already knew. --- The Romano estate turned into a fortress by sundown. Men armed to the teeth patrolled every corridor. Someone handed her a coat. Someone else poured her whiskey. Nobody met her eyes. They didn’t need to. The Don was dead. Marco Romano—her father, her shield, her blood—reduced to fire and metal on a winding road. A lifetime of warnings echoed in her ears: Trust no one. Especially not them. The Morettis. Her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached. Of course it was them. It had always been them. Alessio Moretti, heir to that cold-blooded empire, would’ve given the order. Nothing big moved without his word. They hadn’t just struck a blow. They’d declared war. And now the vultures were circling. -- By nightfall, the top families were already negotiating. The ink on her father’s death hadn’t dried, and they were talking peace. Blood is business, she thought bitterly. Always had been. Rosa hovered in the doorway. “They want you at the meeting.” Emilia blinked. “Me?” Rosa nodded, lips tight. “It’s not a request.” --- The room was all shadows and candlelight. Don Salvatore Moretti sat at the far end like a king. Her uncle beside him. And next to him—Alessio. He looked exactly like the photos. Sharp suit. Sharper jaw. Eyes like cold glass. He didn’t look at her like a man meeting his future bride. He looked at her like she was a problem to solve. Emilia stared him down without blinking. “Emilia,” her uncle began, voice stiff. “There will be no war. We’ve reached a solution.” Her heart thudded once. Then again, harder. “You’re letting them walk?” “No one here is innocent,” Don Salvatore said calmly. “But we all want the same thing—order.” She crossed her arms. “So what? Shake hands and pretend he didn’t kill my father?” Alessio didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. Just watched her like he was already bored. Her uncle’s voice turned to steel. “You’re going to marry him.” --- Emilia didn’t answer right away. The words hung in the air like the smoke from her father’s car—You’re going to marry him. It was quiet. Too quiet. Her eyes didn’t leave Alessio’s face. He was sitting, No smirk, no reaction, no regret. Just watching her. Waiting. “This is a joke,” she said finally, voice sharp. “You expect me to marry the son of the man who had my father killed?” “You want war?” her uncle snapped. “Because that’s the other option.” Don Salvatore leaned forward, fingers steepled. “No one here is innocent, signorina. Your father played this game, too. This marriage ends it.” Ends it. Emilia laughed once. Cold. “Or buries it.” Her uncle stood. “This is not up for debate.” “And what about him?” she asked, jerking her chin toward Alessio. “He doesn’t want this either. Why should I agree to be his hostage?” For the first time, Alessio spoke. “You’re not a hostage,” he said, calm and controlled. “You’re a solution.” The room went still. Emilia blinked. “I’d rather burn.” He stood, slowly, deliberately. “Then you’ll burn in my house. At my table. Wearing my name.” Rage flared behind her ribs. “Try me.” A flicker passed across his face. Amusement? Disgust? She couldn’t tell. But she hated how calm he was. Like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t matter. “This is happening,” Don Salvatore said. “You both know what’s at stake.” Emilia’s hands curled into fists. “You think this will stop the blood?” “No,” Alessio said, voice like glass. “But it’ll give us time to clean it up.” --- The drive back to the estate was silent. Rosa sat beside her in the back seat, fidgeting with the hem of her coat. Emilia stared out the window, jaw tight, heart pounding. “They didn’t even ask me,” she muttered. “They never would have,” Rosa said softly. “Not in this world.” “I’m not a pawn.” “No,” Rosa agreed. “But you’re on the board.” --- Later that night, Emilia stood in her father’s study. The chair where he used to sit was empty. His whiskey still half full. The air smelled like leather, dust, and gun oil. A marriage. To Alessio Moretti. She closed her eyes and tried to picture it. The ceremony. The lies. The life after. She saw herself in white. Saw him in black. Saw the bullet between them waiting to fire. Her father once told her, There’s no such thing as peace. Only quiet between kills. Now she’d have to live in that silence—with the man who helped make it. ----CHAPTER FORTY-ONETHE CHOICE THAT BROKE THE BLOOD“It’s not the first shot that breaks you. It’s the silence after, when everything that’s left has to live with it.”The gunshot didn’t echo. It was absorbed—swallowed by the stone and the dark and the history pressing in from every wall of the vault. Alessio kept his arm steady, jaw locked, as Jace dropped like a puppet cut from the strings. The bullet tore into his chest and he crumpled, but he didn’t scream. He just exhaled, as if he’d been waiting for that exact moment all his life. The air in the vault shifted—not as it would from a death, but like the structure itself had registered something more significant than blood. Not fear. Not chaos. Choice. And with choice came consequence.The hum began again, louder this time, not confined to a wall or chamber or machine but rising from the floor, from the broken veins of the vault’s foundation. Stone vibrated beneath Alessio’s boots. Red light flickered once, then dimmed, then disa
---CHAPTER FORTYMEMORY HAS TEETH“When memory comes for you, it doesn’t ask permission. It opens your chest and digs with both hands.”They didn’t recognize Jace at first. It wasn’t the way he walked, or the way his clothes hung heavier, darker, almost wet with sweat and some substance that didn’t belong in the world above. It was his eyes. His eyes were wrong. The shape was the same. The movement was there. But the depth—the way they followed you even when he wasn’t looking at you—was different. There was something behind them now. Something ancient. Something watching through him. He didn’t blink when the red emergency lights stuttered. He didn’t flinch when the vault’s inner floor cracked again. He simply kept walking—alone at first, though the sound of more footsteps echoed just behind the curve of the stone. Not boots. Not heels. Something softer. Bare.Alessio raised his weapon slowly, tracking Jace’s steps from the corner of the corridor where he and Emilia stood in perfect s
---CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE THE THING THAT KNOWS YOU“It doesn’t want to kill you. It wants to remember you. And then show you everything you forgot to fear.”No one moved when the voice spoke. No one breathed when it said the name. Alessio’s name. Not shouted. Not whispered. Just spoken—clearly, directly, from somewhere below the reinforced concrete, through five layers of steel and ancient stone, carried not through air but through pressure. It didn’t echo like sound. It settled like truth. Even in the control room, where white noise hummed from hard drives and emergency power buzzed in the vents, the voice still came through. Not loud. But absolute. Like gravity had words.Bianca stood completely still, her eyes glassy, her breath slow and shallow, the same way she looked when she used to listen to old reels of family secrets on analog tapes—afraid to react too soon, afraid reacting might make them real. “It knows him,” she said quietly, barely moving her lips. “It doesn’t guess. It d
---CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT THE VAULT BLEEDS“Some places remember every sin ever committed inside them. And eventually, they spit the blood back out.”It didn’t feel like a tremor. Tremors were brief, sharp, over before the body knew how to react. What happened beneath the Moretti estate was slower, deeper, and carried a hum like bone grinding against bone. The war room monitors blacked out in sections—first the security feeds, then the audio grid, then the heartbeat sensors attached to each heat signature in the vault. At first, Emilia thought the system had glitched again, another artifact of Vitale’s sabotage protocols, but then the emergency backup flickered to life in red, and she saw the words printed across the top line: CONTAINMENT BREACH: INNER SEAL COMPROMISED. Not hacked. Not bypassed. Compromised.She called Alessio without hesitation. He answered on the first ring, already moving, already breathing like someone who didn’t need to be told something was wrong. “I felt it,” h
---CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENINTO THE VAULT“Some places aren’t built to hold gold or secrets. They’re built to bury sins.”The vault was never just a vault. It was never merely a structure of stone, steel, and false silence beneath the council’s northern grounds. It had always been something older than its blueprints, older than the money it held and older than the men who built their power around its contents. Alessio had seen the schematics once, years ago, when his father showed him a faded map in a quiet room and said, “There’s more than money buried down there. There’s memory. And memory doesn’t forgive.” Now, as he stood outside the ancient security gate with Emilia on one side and Tomaso behind him, he could feel it again—that hum in the walls, like something buried was breathing slow and patient, waiting to be disturbed.The plan was simple, but nothing about it felt easy. They would let Jace’s crew into the vault. They would shadow them through the old maintenance tunnels, let t
---CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXTHE KNIFE INSIDE“Some wounds heal. Some stay just sharp enough to keep you awake at night.”Rosa woke to the smell of iron and antiseptic, the faint hum of overhead lights, and the sound of someone pacing slowly—measured, quiet, like their footsteps were trying to hide the weight of everything they carried. Her body ached before she moved. Her side throbbed before she breathed. When she opened her eyes, the ceiling blurred, then sharpened, cold white tiles set into metal brackets. Not the estate. Somewhere more secure. Underground, most likely. Or hidden. That much, she could guess. She wasn’t on display. She wasn’t in recovery. She was in containment—safe, but watched.Emilia sat in the corner, a file open in her lap, though her eyes hadn’t looked at the pages for the last ten minutes. When Rosa stirred, Emilia’s gaze flicked up—not with panic, not with relief, but with something more dangerous: readiness.“You’re awake,” Emilia said, voice flat.“Barely,” Ros
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