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Deja vu: Blood Memory

Deja vu: Blood Memory

Mafia
last updateปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2026-05-07
โดย:  Linet. K. Anastasia ยังไม่จบ
ภาษา: English
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สแกนรหัสเพื่ออ่านบนแอป

คำโปรย

Dark Romance

Fast-Paced Plot

Tragedy

Mafia

Ruthless

Hidden Identity

Betrayal

Revenge

Twist

In the neon-drenched shadows of Nairobi, Alessia wakes from a fatal gunshot with a chilling clarity: she is not who she thinks she is. While her lover, Mafia heir Lorenzo, mourns the woman she was, Alessia’s body begins to "remember" lethal skills, ancient languages, and violent deaths she never lived. She is Subject A, a high-velocity asset in Project Déjà Vu, a global conspiracy by the shadowy organization VANTA. As the "Blood Memory" fractures her reality, Alessia discovers a horrifying cycle: she and Lorenzo have been paired across centuries, engineered to fall in love only to be reset through state-sponsored tragedies. Their "Affinity" isn't fate—it’s a biological battery used to harvest emotional resonance and destabilize world power structures. Every time they grow too powerful, the system triggers a "Liquidation," wiping their minds to begin the loop anew. But this time, the glitch is permanent. Alessia evolves into the Perfect Weapon, accessing the tactical archives of her past iterations. To break the cycle, she makes the ultimate sacrifice: she severs her connection to Lorenzo, choosing cold, calculated vengeance over manufactured love. While Lorenzo unleashes his own buried rage to protect her, Alessia goes rogue, infiltrating VANTA’s core to delete the "Failure Cycle." As she nears the Creator, Silas, she faces a devastating truth: they weren't just assassins, but prototypes for a global replacement of the elite. To win her freedom, Alessia must decide if she can ever truly love the man who has been her executioner for three hundred years. The loop is breaking, the system is crashing, and the blood is finally speaking. "The memory is in the marrow. The revenge is in the soul.”

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14
Chapter 1: The Girl Who Didn’t Die
The last thing I remembered was the heat.A jagged, searing white light was tearing through my chest, the smell of burnt silk, and the taste of my own life leaking onto the cold pavement of the Nairobi docks. I remembered Lorenzo’s face—not the stoic, terrifying Mafia heir the world feared, but a man coming apart at the seams. I remembered his scream. It was the loudest thing I had ever heard.Then, there was nothing. No tunnel. No white light. Just a click. Like a tape being rewound by a giant, invisible hand.I opened my eyes.The ceiling was a flat, sterile grey. The air didn't smell like the salty breeze of the Indian Ocean anymore; it smelled of ozone and expensive disinfectant. My heart—the one that had been shattered by a .45 caliber hollow-point—was beating. It wasn't the frantic, fluttering pulse of the girl who had been in love with Lorenzo.It was a steady, heavy thrum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Efficient. Mechanical.I sat up. My movements were fluid, devoid of the usual mornin
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Chapter 2: Stranger in Her Own Skin
The penthouse felt like a gilded cage, and for the first time, I was studying the bars. Lorenzo hadn't left my side for six hours. He moved around the room like a caged panther, his eyes never leaving me. He was waiting for the "old" Alessia to return—the one who would blush when he looked at her, the one who lived for the weight of his arm around her waist. Instead, I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the lights of Nairobi flicker like dying embers. I wasn't looking at the view; I was calculating the height of the drop and the distance to the perimeter fence. 14th floor. Three guard rotations. One weak point is near the service elevator. Tactical assessment complete. "You’re doing it again," Lorenzo’s voice rasped. I wasn't startled. I simply turned my head. He was standing by the mahogany bar, a crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand. He hadn't touched it. "Doing what?" I asked. "Evaluating," he said, stepping into the light. His silk shirt was unbuttoned at the
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Chapter 3: The First Break
The nightmare didn't come while I was sleeping. It waited until I was awake, sharp and jagged as a broken mirror.Lorenzo had stayed in the living room, the clink of ice against glass the only rhythm in the suffocating silence of the penthouse. I sat on the edge of the oversized silk bed, my fingers trailing over the vanity table. It was covered in expensive trinkets—bottles of perfume that smelled like jasmine, gold-plated brushes, and a heavy, antique silver letter opener shaped like a dagger.My hand hovered over the letter opener.The moment my skin touched the cold metal, the world tilted.The sterile scent of the penthouse vanished. Suddenly, I wasn't in Nairobi. I was in a room draped in heavy red velvet. The air was thick with the smell of guttering candles and old blood.“Do it, Katerina,” a voice hissed in my ear. It wasn't Lorenzo’s voice. It was deeper, colder, accented with a Russian lilt I’d never heard before.I looked down at my hands. They weren't mine. They were scar
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Chapter 4: Blood Memory
The air in the room didn’t just feel cold; it felt heavy, like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.Lorenzo was still staring at me, his hand tightened on my arm, his eyes searching mine for a flicker of the girl who used to apologize for breathing too loudly. He didn't find her. He found a mirror that reflected his own darkness at him."You're tired, Alessia," he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Go back to sleep. We’ll talk when the sun is up.""The sun won't change what’s written in my marrow, Lorenzo."I pulled my arm away. I didn't struggle; I simply applied a specific pressure point to the radial nerve in his wrist. I didn't know how I knew the nerve was there, or that a three-pound squeeze would cause his fingers to go numb. I just... did.He hissed, his hand dropping as if he’d been electrocuted. He looked at his hand, then at me, the shock on his face bordering on terror. "Where did you learn that?""I didn't learn it," I whispered, looking at my own fingers. "M
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Chapter 5: Lorenzo Remembers
The red laser dot danced across my chest, a silent promise of a hollow-point bullet. I didn’t flinch. I had seen that dot in a dozen different centuries, on a hundred different versions of this same night.But I had never seen Alessia look at me the way she was looking at me now.She wasn’t terrified. She wasn't the sweet girl from the Pipeline neighborhood who used to hum old Swahili songs while she cooked for me. She was standing in the shadows of our shattered penthouse, her eyes reflecting the cold blue light of the city, looking like a goddess of war."Down, Lorenzo," she said again. It wasn't a plea. It was a command.I ignored her, my finger tightening on the trigger of my Beretta. I leaned into the laser, my heart thrumming with a sudden, violent memory of my own.I am in a forest. It is cold—colder than Nairobi could ever be. I am wearing leather armor. I am holding a sword that weighs more than a man’s life. I am looking at a woman with Alessia’s face. She is wearing a crown
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Chapter 6: The Man in the Shadows
The elevator didn’t ding. It exhaled.A hiss of pressurized air escaped as the doors slid open, revealing a man who looked like he had been carved out of the very shadows he stepped from. He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit, a silk tie the color of dried veins, and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses that caught the flickering emergency lights of the penthouse.He didn't look like a killer. He looked like an architect."Subject A," he said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that sent a tremor of pure, instinctual dread down my spine. "You’ve made a mess of the retrieval team. Impressive. Your neural pathways are re-mapping faster than the simulations predicted."Lorenzo stepped in front of me, his Beretta leveled at the man’s forehead. His knuckles were white, his chest heaving. "Stay back, Silas. Or I’ll end this cycle right here."The man—Silas—didn't even glance at the gun. He adjusted his cufflinks with a slow, agonizing deliberateness. "Lorenzo. Still
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Chapter 7: The Hunger
The room was a cube of reinforced glass and brushed steel. It was beautiful in the way a scalpel is beautiful: sharp, clean, and designed for a single, bloody purpose.They called it the "Social Calibration Chamber." I called it a cage.I stood in the center of the room, wearing a thin, charcoal-grey bodysuit that felt like a second skin. My hair was pulled back, my face scrubbed clean. I felt light. I felt dangerous. And I felt a hollow, aching void in my gut that no amount of food could fill."Subject A. Subject B has entered the chamber," the intercom droned—Silas’s voice.The heavy steel door slid open. Lorenzo stepped in.He looked different without the bespoke suits and the Italian leather shoes. He was wearing the same tactical grey I was. The fabric strained against his shoulders, outlining every corded muscle of a man built for violence. His eyes were bloodshot, tracking me with a frantic, starving intensity."Alessia," he breathed."That's the name on the file," I said. My v
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Chapter 8: The Pattern
The silence in the Social Calibration Chamber was heavy, the kind of silence that precedes a landslide. Lorenzo was still standing by the glass wall, his shadow stretched long and distorted across the floor. He looked like a man who had just watched his last bridge burn.I didn't wait for his answer. I didn't need it. My hands were already moving, my fingers tracing the sleek, seamless edges of the wall panels.Subject A: Environmental Awareness 92%. The voice in my head was a cold, digital hum, but it was becoming mine. I could feel the electricity running through the walls. I could sense the data packets pulsing through the fiber-optic cables beneath the floor."Alessia, stop," Lorenzo said, his voice cracking. "If they see you tampering with the interface, they’ll trigger the sedative.""They’ve been sedating me for three hundred years, Lorenzo. A little more won't hurt."I found it—a hair-thin gap in the casing. I jammed the silver letter opener—which I had somehow palmed from the
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Chapter 9 – Captured Truth
The red emergency lights strobed against the reinforced glass, turning the "Social Calibration Chamber" into a rhythmic, bloody nightmare. The hiss of the sedative gas was a death rattle in the vents, but I didn't breathe it in. My body had already adjusted, my lungs constricting by instinct, my metabolism slowing to a crawl to filter the toxins."Alessia, the vents!" Lorenzo coughed, pressing his sleeve to his face. He was Subject B; his resistance was high, but not like mine. He was the anchor; I was the blade."I’ve got it," I snapped.I didn't run for the door. I ran for the server pillar in the center of the room. My fingers moved like spiders over the sleek casing. I wasn't guessing. I was remembering the layout of a facility I had supposedly never seen. Level 4. Sub-sector Theta. Three floors below the Nairobi surface."Override initiated," I whispered.The heavy steel door didn't just open—it blew off its hydraulic hinges with a violent thud."Move!" I grabbed Lorenzo by the h
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Chapter 10: Project Déjà Vu
The thermal cutter hissed through the steel door like a hot wire through wax. Sparks showered the dark room, illuminating the rows of glowing server racks that hummed like a hive of digital bees."Alessia, they’re through!" Lorenzo shouted, his back against a console, his breath hitching in his chest. He was reaching for a piece of jagged metal to use as a shiv.I didn't move. I was staring at the central monitor. My fingers were dancing across a keyboard that didn't use letters—it used symbols, a language of pure logic that felt more natural than English."Wait," I whispered.The door buckled. The heavy slab of steel hit the floor with a bone-jarring thrum. Three operatives in white VANTA "Bio-Containment" suits stepped in. They weren't holding guns. They were holding injectors."Subject A, stand down," the lead operative said. His voice was muffled, but I recognized the cadence."Hello, Dr. Aris," I said, not looking up from the screen. "I remember your hands. You were the one who h
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