ANMELDENChapter 58Valencia’s POVThe echoes of the decanter hitting Antonio’s temple still vibrated in my wrists as I ran. The air in the hallway felt thinner now, as if the manor itself were gasping for breath, dying along with the Rossi legacy. I didn't care. I didn't care about the gold leaf on the walls or the blood on the floor. I only cared about the heartbeat waiting for me at the end of the north wing.I burst into the nursery, my chest heaving. The room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of a nightlight, smelling of lavender and the innocent scent of childhood that I had fought so hard to reclaim."Valencia!" Mia scrambled up from her small desk, her eyes bright with a manic, creative energy. She looked like a tiny bird, fragile yet resilient. In her hands, she clutched a sheet of heavy parchment, the edges crinkled by her grip. "Look! I finished it!" she chirped, her voice a bell in the silence of the dying house. "I drew the fountain. The one where the water never stops. I used
Chapter 57Valencia’s POVThe kitchen was cold, but the fire in my blood was freezing. Maria didn’t ask questions; she didn’t need to. She simply nodded, the blade she was cleaning reflecting the sharp, merciless glint in her eyes. I didn't wait for her to pick up the burner phone. I was already moving.My heels were silent on the Persian rugs as I ascended the grand staircase. Every portrait of a Rossi ancestor seemed to sneer as I passed, their painted eyes tracking the woman who was about to erase their lineage from the face of the earth. I reached the heavy oak doors of the master suite. Two guards stood outside, but they straightened the moment they saw me. They had seen the "Last Supper." They had seen me bring the Syndicate to its knees. To them, I wasn't just Antonio’s fiancée anymore; I was the dark sun around which this entire crumbling solar system orbited."He’s resting," one of them whispered, his eyes downcast."He’s waiting for me," I countered, my voice a silk ribbon
Chapter 56Valencia’s POVThe tranquility of the garden still clung to my skin like the scent of crushed jasmine, but the moment I stepped back into the vaulted marble foyer of the manor, the air changed. The peace I had found with Mia was a fragile glass ornament, and I could feel the vibrations of the house trying to shatter it.I had just handed Mia over to a much more subdued, trembling nanny when I turned the corner toward the west gallery. The shadows here were long, stretched out by the dying sun into jagged fingers that seemed to reach for my throat. I didn't hear him move. I didn't hear the scuff of a boot or the rustle of a suit. Akeem simply materialized from the darkness of a recessed alcove, his massive frame blocking the path to my study.I stopped. My heart didn’t race, Silas had trained that reflex out of me but a cold, calculating stillness settled over my limbs."Akeem," I said, my voice smooth as polished stone. "I thought you were stationed at the perimeter.""The
Chapter 55Valencia’s POVThe morning after the "Last Supper" felt like the world had been scrubbed raw. The air in the Rossi Manor was unnervingly still, the kind of silence that usually follows a landslide. Antonio was heavily sedated in the west wing, his pride and his body equally broken, and the Syndicate vultures had scattered to digest the digital poison I’d fed them.For the first time in months, the "Titan" was silent. My mind wasn't calculating offshore transfers or decryption keys. Instead, my feet moved of their own accord toward the nursery.I stopped at the doorway. Mia was sitting in a sunbeam in the middle of the white plush rug. She looked small, frighteningly small but the waxy, grey pallor of the fever had been replaced by a faint, healthy flush. She was surrounded by a chaotic spread of crayons and heavy parchment."You’re working hard," I said softly.Mia didn't flinch. She didn't scream. She looked up, her dark curls, so much like my own tumbling over her shoulde
Chapter 54Silas’s POVThe silence of Blackwood Manor was not peace. It was the pressurized stillness of a tomb before the resurrection.I sat in the command center, the only light provided by the wall of monitors that acted as my windows into the world I was systematically dismantling. My hand, wrapped in a linen bandage that was slowly turning a dark, rusty crimson, throbbed with every heartbeat. I didn't mind the pain. The pain was a tether. It reminded me that I was still anchored to the physical world while my mind was thousands of miles away, prowling through the hallways of a cursed estate in Italy.On the central screen, the feed from the Rossi Manor played in high-definition silence. I had watched her. I had watched my Valencia, my masterpiece, the woman I had forged in the dark and christened in the fire tear that house apart from the inside. I had watched her play the grieving mother, the devoted bride, and finally, the operatic victim. I had seen her break Antonio Rossi,
Chapter 53Valencia’s POVThe weight of the emeralds around my neck felt like cold, encircling fingers. I stood before the mirror in my suite, adjusting the silk of a dress the color of spilled Chianti. My face was a masterpiece of porcelain perfection, but behind the eyes, the Titan was shifting, calculating the trajectory of every soul in this house.Tonight was the endgame.I had orchestrated a celebration dinner, a homecoming for Antonio’s recovery and a thank you to the Syndicate for their patience. But the guest list was a tactical map of Antonio’s impending ruin. I had sent the invitations through Jax’s ghost-servers, ensuring they looked like desperate, last-minute pleas for peace from Antonio himself.I walked into the grand dining hall. The table was a sea of crystal, silver, and blood-red roses. "Is everything ready, Maria?" I asked, my voice echoing against the vaulted ceilings."The wine is decanting, Valencia," Maria whispered, her eyes darting toward the door. "But Ant
Chapter 22Valencia’s POVThe aftermath of the digital strike on Clara had left me with a jagged, restless energy that refused to settle. I had watched her empire fracture through a screen, watched lines of code become screams, but the victory tasted like ash, hollow, incomplete. A phantom triumph
Chapter 25Valencia’s POVThe transformation was complete. I stood in the center of my suite, a vision of monochromatic death and high-fashion armor. The black gown was a masterpiece of structural silk, backless to the waist to reveal the scars Silas had worshipped with his mouth, and slit to the u
Chapter 23Silas’s POVThe scent of her was still a phantom in my lungs, pomegranate, sweat, and the musk of a woman who had finally tasted her own power. My back stung where her nails had staked their claim, and my shoulder bore the deep, purple crescent of her teeth.I walked through the silent,
Chapter 24Valencia’s POVThe aftermath of my "lesson" with Silas felt like a permanent fever. Every time the silk of my robe brushed against my shoulder, I felt the phantom sting of his teeth; every time I drew a breath, I tasted the lingering scent of smoke and storm. I stood before the floor-to







