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Chapter 119 - The Red Reaping
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2025-07-16 17:30:29
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Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 121 - The Mask Of The Devil
The iron door groaned shut behind Massimo as he descended into the dungeon beneath the Sanchiano estate. The air was wet with mildew and old blood, torchlight flickering off the stone walls like ghost-fire. In the last cell on the left sat Drake de Marco.His face was still marred from the Berlin fire, skin stitched, eye half-blind, a permanent sneer carved across his ruined mouth. But his eyes… they still glinted with the same venom.Talana stood in front of the cell, her arms folded, eyes sharp. “Any final truths you want to gift us before your empire is reduced to a headline?” she asked.De Marco laughed, the sound ragged. “You still think this is about empires. You think Donatello built this from ambition?”“Enlighten me.”He leaned forward, shackles clinking. “He was chosen. Sanctified. He didn’t build it. He inherited it. Just like you.”Talana didn’t flinch. “The only thing I’ve inherited is a war and I’m ending it.”Massimo’s gaze never left De Marco. “He dies after Donatello.
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 120 - Into The Reaping
War didn’t arrive with fanfare. It crept across maps, blinking red lights and encrypted coordinates. After the Red Reaping was severed, the remaining limbs of Donatello and De Marco’s global trafficking network continued to twitch beneath the surface.Talana was no longer reactive. She was surgical. The Morelli-Sanchiano alliance became the scalpel.The first phase of global dismantling launched in the cover of night. Targets were precise: smuggling ports, corrupted embassies, and ghost-ran airfields. None would survive the week.Marseille – Dockside Warehouse, Mariano moved like a phantom. Clad in black, his comms buzzed with coded directives from the Catanzaro command.Two shipping crates marked as “ritual wine” were pried open. Inside: restraints, pharmaceuticals, and falsified medical clearances. Another crate held frozen embryos, each vial tagged with Vatican clearance seals.“God help them,” one soldier murmured.“God’s not here,” Mariano muttered. “Only fire.”Within minutes, t
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 119 - The Red Reaping
The encrypted broadcast came through all at once. Every terminal at the Sanchiano estate flickered. Lights dimmed. Generators hummed low. An alert screamed across the war room screen in red text: LIVE ENCRYPTION — PRIORITY ONE: SOURCE UNKNOWN.Talana stood. Massimo was already beside her. Lorenzo, Mariano, Gianna, each one silent, watching as the screen bloomed to life.A chamber bathed in candlelight appeared and there he was, Donatello. His face, once polished cruelty, was now distorted. Berlin had marked him. Scars webbed across his left cheek and jaw. The flesh had been stitched poorly, cruelly. But his eyes… those hadn’t changed. Still glacial. Still dead.He smiled. “Hello, Talana.”Gianna recoiled. Lorenzo’s knuckles whitened on the desk.“I was going to send roses. But fire seemed more fitting.”The feed glitched briefly, then returned. “You burned down my sanctuaries. Killed my agents. Stole my network. Now I offer you an invitation.”Behind him, shadows moved. Other men, sil
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 118 - Smoke Between Saints and Sinners
The drive from Venice to Catanzaro was conducted in silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that weighed down every heartbeat like ash. Rain streaked the windows of the armored vehicle, washing the residue of fire from their clothes but not from their minds.Talana sat with her arm resting in a makeshift sling, her wounded shoulder wrapped in gauze. Gianna had cleaned and bandaged it as best she could in the back of the van, her hands trembling but precise. Across from her, Massimo sat with his fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes locked on the encrypted tablet.“Any word from Lorenzo and Mariano?” Talana asked finally.“They’re two hours behind,” Massimo replied. “Took a separate route in case we were followed.”Talana leaned back, letting the thrum of the tires lull her into stillness. But stillness wasn’t peace. Her mind played the Venice chamber again and again, the dead priest’s face, the shattered monitor, Donatello’s mocking voice.When they finally rolled through the w
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 117 - Where Blood Meets Water
Venice woke slowly, like a widow rolling over to find her husband’s side of the bed still cold. The city breathed mist through its alleyways, shrouding canals in a silence that felt centuries deep. Gondolas rocked like coffins upon the lagoon, and bells tolled in the distance, each chime sounding more like a warning than a call to prayer.Talana stood atop a rooftop overlooking the southern side of the Arsenale. Dressed still in her Vatican robes, she had stripped away the collar, letting the fabric fall open to reveal the black combat gear beneath. A thin layer of sweat clung to her spine. Her eyes were fixed on the waters below.Beside her, Massimo adjusted the scope on his rifle, scanning the building across the canal. “The entrance is masked behind a false crypt,” he said. “Thermal shows movement inside. Could be guards, or could be worse.”Talana didn’t flinch. “Everything inside that place is worse.”Mariano’s voice buzzed in their earpieces. “We’ve activated the decoy path. Lor
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 116 - Wolf At The Door
The underground chamber smelled of candle smoke and salt-damp stone. It had once been a crypt, hollowed beneath a forgotten monastery buried in the edge of Venice, but now it was reborn as a war room, a sanctum of shadows and surveillance.Donatello stood before a wall of screens, arms behind his back, the flickering light illuminating his silver hair and the sharp shadows under his eyes. Dozens of monitors streamed hacked footage from every corner of Europe, but only one screen held his gaze, the one centered on the Sanchiano chapel.Talana Fabrizio-Sanchiano stood motionless on the feed, back turned, silhouetted by Roman morning light. The chapel’s sanctity did little to soften the fury wrapped around her frame like a second skin. Donatello didn’t blink. He studied her as though decoding a scripture in blood.“She didn’t cry,” he said quietly.Behind him, the mole in Vatican robes hesitated. He was young, nervous, sweat slicking the collar of his clerical shirt. “No, sir, but the si
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