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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Five
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2025-10-01 23:31:16
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Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One
The Widow Queen Rises Some queens inherit thrones. Others take them back — piece by bloodstained piece. Sicily – Two Weeks After Naples There were no flowers at the coronation. No music. No crown. Just fire. Amara stood before the ashes of her enemies — seven lieutenants who’d betrayed her during Luca’s absence. Their bodies hung over the cliffside, throats slit, the Varela insignia carved into their chests. The message was clear: I am not your queen by inheritance. I am your queen by conquest. She wore no veil, no silk. Only black. She walked barefoot across the stone courtyard of her mother’s ruined compound — now rebuilt, reforged into the heart of her empire. No men flanked her. Only women. Cassian stood back now, recovering, silent. Dante watched from the shadows, unreadable. But the new faces at her sides were unmistakable: — Jasmina, the Moroccan hacker with a voice like silk and hands that could start digital wars. — Renata, a former Vesper enforcer who’d sl
Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Forty
Two Graves Before you seek revenge, dig two graves — one for your enemy, and one for what it will cost you. Sicily – Varela Stronghold Three weeks after Luca’s disappearance Amara stood alone on the edge of the villa’s northern wall, staring down at the sea. It looked endless — the same way grief did when it went unanswered. The wind howled like ghosts through the stone. She welcomed the sound. Better than silence. Cassian approached behind her, slow, cautious. “There’s word from Marseille,” he said. “A summit. The old families are circling again.” Amara didn’t turn. “They can circle. They’ll still die screaming if they touch what’s mine.” Cassian hesitated. “Are you sure you’re ready to go back into the field? Without—” “I don’t need Luca.” The lie tasted like rust. That night – Marseille The summit took place in an abandoned opera house. Grand, echoing, thick with history and danger. Amara walked in first — flanked by Cassian and Dante, all dressed for war under
Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine
The Boy With Black Eyes They say monsters are born. Luca Moretti was made. Sicily – 18 Years Ago Moretti Orphanage, South Palermo The walls were gray. The beds were iron. The air tasted like bleach and broken dreams. They called him Number Seventeen. No name. No family. Just a tag stitched onto his shirt and a silence that swallowed him whole. The nuns said he never cried. Not once. The first time he was beaten, he didn’t flinch. The other boys waited for him to scream. He didn’t. He just stared at the older kid holding the belt — dark eyes bottomless, black like oil and war. The boy dropped the strap first. At night, Luca traced the lines in the cracked ceiling. One line for every year he planned to stay alive. Only ten years old, and already strategizing survival like a soldier. He stole books from the rector’s office. Taught himself Latin, Russian, and how to read a map like it was a promise. One night, he whispered to himself: “If I’m ever free… I’ll never
Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Eight
Ruins in Velvet Power looks different in silence. No screaming. No gunfire. Just a room full of kings who choose to kneel. Paris – Le Palais de Verre (The Palace of Glass) The ballroom glowed like a shrine. Gilded columns. Velvet drapes. Crystal chandeliers that cost more than cities. Tonight, it hosted the five remaining sovereigns of the European underworld. — Maximilian of the Prague Syndicate — Eleonora of the Corsican Triad — Silvio d’Amato of Milan’s bloodline — The Berber Prince of the Maghreb — And Archbishop Valier, the Vatican’s ghost broker Each came armed. Surrounded. Arrogant. Until she arrived. Amara Varela. Dressed in black velvet, no crown on her head — just a pistol at her hip and death in her eyes. She didn’t speak when she entered. She didn’t need to. Eleonora stood first. “Is this your way of proving power? One woman against five?” Amara’s gaze swept the room. “I’m not here to prove. I’m here to collect.” She took a single step forward. M
Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven
What Is Owed Must Be Paid The past doesn’t stay buried. It claws out of the grave — hungry, cold, and holding receipts. Sicily – Varela Stronghold The envelope arrived without warning. No guards spotted who left it. No cameras caught the delivery. But it sat on Amara’s war table — marked only with a black seal. Inside: two items. A photograph of Isabel, bound and bleeding, dated three months before her rescue. A handwritten note: “You don’t know everything. I do. Let’s talk. Or the world will.” — A Nero still breathing “Another heir?” Cassian asked, pacing the war room. “Could be bluff,” Dante muttered. “Or a trap.” Amara said nothing. She was staring at the photo — at her mother’s eyes. Open. Alive. In pain. “You alright?” Cassian asked her quietly. “No,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter.” Rome – Underground Chapel, 48 Hours Later Amara went alone. No Luca. No guards. Just a pistol under her coat and a blade strapped to her thigh. The meeting place: an abandone
Kingdom of Ash and Blood Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Six
Her Crown. His chains. Power doesn’t feel like a throne. It feels like chains — but only when you’re the one beneath them. Palermo – Midnight The cathedral was older than the city itself. Once a place of worship. Then a place of war. Tonight, it was a place of coronation. Candles lined the walls in hundreds. The pews were filled with underworld royalty — dons, cartel queens, gunrunners, traffickers, oil princes, fallen monarchs wearing stolen silk. And at the altar stood Amara Varela. Black velvet bled down her shoulders. A silver crown rested in Dante’s hands — forged from Vesper gold, melted Nero bullets, and a single red ruby Luca had given her in Florence. She looked like legend. Because she was. Dante spoke first. “In the name of fire, blood, and ruin…” He turned to her. “Do you swear to take this empire and all its sins — without mercy, without apology?” Amara didn’t blink. “I do.” Cassian stepped forward, sword in hand. Dante placed the crown on her head.
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