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Chapter 47 - The Ashes Of Home
Last Updated:
2025-05-16 13:09:50
Latest chapter
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 128 - Dona E Diavola
The sky over Florence was a brittle shade of winter blue, the kind that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to break. Inside the private chapel of the Sanchiano estate, nothing moved except for the golden flicker of votive candles, casting long shadows against ancient stone walls. The altar was cleared. The icons veiled. What was about to take place here wasn’t sanctioned by Church or law, it belonged to something older.Talana stood at the head of the nave, a tailored black suit replacing the bloodied silks of war. Her hair was swept back, a single strand curling free against her cheek. On her finger, the Sanchiano ring gleamed. No tiara. No crown. Just the weight of inheritance.Gianna stood to her right, fierce and calm in a dark crimson coat, holding the family ledger in gloved hands. Aria was on her left, silent but coiled, a blade beneath her dress. Massimo remained behind her, the only one who knew what it had cost to stand here.The pews were filled not with pries
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 127 - Inheritance
The morning broke grey over the Tuscan hills, mist crawling low over the vineyards like secrets trying to find their voice. The doorbell rang, a courier from the pathologist brought the envelope. Talana, was the first one up. She received the report and now stood at the edge of the terrace, the wond tugging at her sleeves, envelope in hand. Massimo walked behind her, two mugs of coffee in hand. "You not going to open it?" He asked handing her, her cup. Wrapping her hands around its warmth, envelope under her arm now. "I will, I just need to brace for whatever the results are."He took the mug from her hands, "Open it Bella Mia."Talana opened the envelope and read the results her eyes widening in confusion. "And?" Massimo asked. "Negative," she responded, "the results are negative."She stood there, the image of her mother still echoed in her mind, even though she now knew the woman in the photograph wasn't Rosalina.Whoever had written the letter and taken that photo had gone to
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 126 - Coming For What's Mine
The photograph sat on the desk like a relic from another life. Talana stared at it for the third hour straight, as if her mother might suddenly blink or speak from within the frame. The woman in the image looked older, gaunter, her face more drawn than Talana remembered, but the eyes were the same. Rosalina Sanchiano, alive in 2019. Or someone who wore her face.She couldn’t stop turning the question in her mind: "Was this the truth, or another carefully laid lie? A misdirection planted by De Marco before his fall? A ghost conjured to unsettle her?"Behind her, the door opened without a knock. Massimo stepped in, silent as shadow, a glass of water in his hand. He placed it beside her, brushing his fingers against hers. "Still no sleep angel?" he asked gently.She shook her head. "How can I sleep when every answer opens a deeper question?"Massimo looked at the photo, then the letter. He picked it up, scanned it again slowly, as if trying to absorb every stroke of the pen. When he fini
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 125 - The Mask Of Memory
The scent of old paper and cold stone filled the study buried beneath the east wing of the estate. Talana sat alone at the massive oak desk, the flickering lamplight casting her shadow long across the walls. Before her lay a single scrap of paper, aged, yellowed, but unmistakably deliberate.“La madre non è mai morta.”The mother was never dead.She must have read it at least twenty times already, memorized the slope of each letter, the smudge on the edge, the tilt of the final dot. It wasn’t Pablo’s handwriting. It wasn’t De Marco’s. It was from someone who wanted her to know something, or suffer from believing it.Her hands shook as she folded the note again. Was it real? A trap? Hope? Madness?The door creaked as Mariano entered, his steps slow, careful. He carried no gun, no files, no bravado. Just his eyes, which avoided hers.“Close the door,” Talana said quietly.He obeyed. The heavy click echoed like a judgment in the silence.She turned, lifting the note. “Who gave this to me
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 124 -Mother's Not Dead
Talana lingered in the kiss, letting her lips soften against his, the night wrapping around them like silk. When she finally pulled back, her forehead remained against Massimo’s chest. His heartbeat was steady, but low, a sound she had come to rely on like a compass in a world that had spun far too many times.“Do you think we’ll ever stop counting losses?” she whispered.Massimo didn’t answer right away. His hand found hers on the rail, fingers interlacing. “No,” he said. “But maybe we can stop bleeding from them.”They stood like that for a while, two warriors dressed in night air and silence. Below, the sea growled softly, as if trying to keep its secrets.A knock came at the door behind them. Massimo turned. His posture shifted, not tensed, not hostile, but alert. He glanced at Talana before moving back inside.“Come in.”It was Marco, one of Mariano’s oldest men, graying at the temples, trench lines etched into his face like carved marble. He held a leather-bound case against his
Bound By Mafia Blood Chapter 123 - Family Not Furniture
The Calabrian sun was mild that morning, wrapped in soft clouds that dulled the heat but did nothing to quiet the cicadas in the olive groves around the Sanchiano estate.It had been five days since Donatello and De Marco’s death had occurred. Five days since blood had been spilled in Croatia, since the cries of vengeance had quieted in the echoing tunnels beneath a forgotten fortress.Now, there was only wind and ghosts.Talana walked the hallways of the Sanchiano villa like someone still caught between time zones, past, present, and a future she couldn’t yet touch. Her boots whispered across the marble, dark hair still damp from her shower, her eyes dull with exhaustion.She stopped at Roberto’s study noticing that the door was ajar. The room still held his scent, the embracing scent that was his alone, sandalwood and pipe smoke, and the dust motes swirled like spirits in shafts of golden morning light. She stepped inside, brushing her fingers over the worn leather of his favorite c
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