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Ghosts in the Blood.

Penulis: Censia
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-04-22 08:04:19

“Take him. The others are disposable.”

The Saturns didn’t waste bullets. They fired with precision…one, two, three of Vittorio’s guards dropped like broken dolls. Blood sprayed across the gravel. Vittorio lunged, dragging himself behind a rusted barrel, breath wheezing, pain biting through his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth. The boy had been taken.

Good riddance.

Let the Saturns deal with him now. He’d served his purpose.

Vittorio clutched his bleeding shoulder, dragged himself across the gravel toward the treeline, heart pounding, rage boiling in his gut.

Silvio was dead.

His legacy, gone.

But he wasn’t. Not yet. He’d claw his way back, and when he did, every single De Luca…and that bastard Noel…would drown in it.

Inside the Saturn vehicle, silence hummed like electricity.

Noel sat pressed against the window, jaw clenched, trying to control the shaking in his hands. His ears still rang with gunfire.

The man in the passenger seat was large, immaculately dressed, quiet.

The divider low
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  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   THE Weight of being the Mafia's lover.

    "You should not sit up, mon ange. You'll tear the stitches." The voice was soft, melodic, and disturbingly serene. Noel's eyes flickered open, pupils adjusting slowly to the warm, diffused sunlight spilling through white gossamer curtains. He blinked once, twice, then let his gaze sweep the enormous room. Everything gleamed…white marble floors, gold-accented furniture, ivory silk drapes. Gilded mirrors hung between massive French paintings, their strokes bold and romantic. The bed beneath him was impossibly large, dressed in snow-colored sheets, pillows stacked behind his back like clouds. And beside the bed, perched gracefully in a white velvet armchair, was a man who did not seem real. He was lean, pale…almost ghostlike…with light-blonde hair that shimmered like spun platinum in the sunlight. He wore a white shirt, sleeves rolled, collar open. In his lap was a sketchbook. His slender fingers moved effortlessly with a pencil across the paper, capturing something unknown with obses

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   ONE HEAD OF THE HYDRA

    "You should've stayed in the hospital, De Luca. It seems you've finally gone mad," sneered Dario Falco, the smug-eyed bastard who had sent the nurse.Vincenzo didn't flinch. His presence devoured the hall the moment he stepped in…sharp black suit stained with the echo of blood, his jaw locked, eyes like twin barrels of hellfire."No," he said coldly. "I'm just awake now.""Awake?" A council member to his right scoffed. "You think you can come here, reeking of rebellion, and lecture us?""We made you!" someone else spat."And you tried to unmake me," Vincenzo replied, voice low and lethal. "By targeting what's mine."They laughed. Even the guards behind them chuckled, amused by what they thought was desperation. Dario Falco rose from his seat, clapping mockingly."Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You've come to beg, haven’t you? You think Don Ramon's shadow can protect you again?""That coward?" another jeered. "He shot Alonzo and ran like a dog.""Your father's disgrace has finally blo

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   TO END A WAR?

    The soft hiss of the IV line was the only sound in the hospital room, faint and steady, like a serpent in the shadows. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long slashes across the sterile floor. The male nurse stood by the bedside, eyes darting to the door, then to the syringe in his gloved hand. His breath was shallow, sweat glistening at his temple.The clear liquid inside the syringe caught the light…a poison meant to never be traced.He adjusted the drip tube carefully, steadying his hand. The pulse monitor beeped in a sleepy rhythm, the only sign of life from the still figure on the bed. Noel looked like a porcelain doll in sleep. Fragile. Beautiful. Vulnerable.The needle inched toward the IV line.Then…Noel's eyes fluttered open.Hazel blue like met the nurse’s dark ones. Wide, dazed, blinking. A breath rattled weakly from Noel's chest.The nurse froze.Noel couldn't move. Couldn't speak. But his eyes screamed.The syringe trembled in the man's hand. He gr

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   THE WATCHMAN.

    "Don Ramon has spat in our faces."The words sliced through the heavy silence like a dagger. The underground council chamber, hidden beneath the ruins of an old basilica, echoed with the hiss of cigars, the clink of crystal glasses, and the low murmur of powerful men seething behind gilded masks of civility.The one who spoke…Marco Ventresca, oldest of the Seven and ruthless in his convictions…sat at the head of the long obsidian table, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair with a calculated fury."He killed Alonzo," another councilman, Galetti, growled. "His cousin. Blood of his blood.""Because Alonzo stood with us," Marco spat. "Because Ramon knew he’d speak out. He silenced him like the coward he’s become.""He's siding with Vincenzo. Protecting that boy...""Noel Laurent," Marco said with disdain. "The boy is the disease. Ramon is infected."There was a beat of silence. Then:"Then let’s cure him."Six pairs of eyes turned toward the one who had spoken. A younger

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   COME UNDONE.

    "Take it all out on me. Every ounce of fear, every tear you've held back. I can take it, Aria. I want to."The words tumbled from Francesca's lips, husky and low, as she pulled Aria inside her dimly lit apartment, slamming the door shut behind them. The city lights filtered through gauzy curtains, casting golden stripes across their skin. But inside, it was a different storm…raw, electric, and urgent.Aria didn’t respond with words. She crashed her lips into Francesca’s, her kiss fierce and frantic, tasting of panic and pain and desperate, wild need. She clawed at Francesca’s blazer, tugging it off her shoulders, then threw it to the floor. Francesca groaned into her mouth and cupped her face, holding her steady as their tongues tangled like they were fighting for dominance and surrender all at once.Clothes became casualties. Aria’s top tore down the middle, buttons flying. Francesca’s silk blouse was ripped over her head. Their bodies pressed together, hot skin to skin, fevered and

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   YOU LOVE MEN TOO?

    "He cannot marry that boy."The words echoed like a slap across the mahogany table of the De Luca council chamber.Don Ramon sat unmoving, his face unreadable beneath the weight of over a dozen eyes…eyes of men who had ruled with him, bled with him, and now dared question him."He cannot marry a man and lead the De Luca Syndicate," spat Don Severino, the eldest of the council. "It is not our way.""Then perhaps," Don Ramon said slowly, voice thick with gravity, "it is time we change our way."Outrage exploded."Sacrilege!""Betrayal of the bloodline!""Bullshit!"Don Riccardo slammed his cane on the floor. "You, of all people, Ramon! You speak of changing what built us? What made us?"Don Ramon rose to his feet. "What made us," he said coldly, "was loyalty. Strength. And a refusal to bow to anyone..not even outdated notions that destroy rather than protect. My son has given everything for this family. If Vincenzo chooses Noel, and chooses love, then I stand by him. If that means he no

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   YOU CAN'T RUN/IN LIMBO

    "You're running out of road, Carlton."The voice on the other end of the phone was as cold as ice and twice as deadly. Carlton’s hand trembled slightly as he pulled the phone away from his ear, disbelief flashing through his eyes. He was in his bedroom, his chest heaving with panic. Sweat slicked his brow, not from the heat…but from fear.Not fear of Noel’s blood still fresh on his conscience. No, that hadn’t mattered much to him.This was different.He’d just been told that the syndicate…those men with no names, only blood debts and silent kills…were coming for him.And they weren’t coming to talk.“No, no, no…” he murmured to himself, his voice breaking with panic as he yanked open the hidden panel in the wall behind his closet.Inside sat his emergency stash. Black duffel bags filled with cash, foreign passports, burner phones, and one pistol with a single clip of ammo. He hadn’t thought he’d ever need to use it. He always played smarter than the rest. He wasn’t reckless. He didn’t

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   Dear God,Please Give him Back To Me.

    "You’re too late… I’m sorry. We did everything we could."The words shattered through the waiting room like glass under a boot.A nurse stood there…her scrubs stained with blood, Noel’s blood…eyes heavy with regret as she looked at Vincenzo. For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed. It was like the world forgot how.Then the silence cracked.Vincenzo staggered."No..." It escaped his lips like a broken whisper, like the word itself couldn’t make sense to his throat. His knees buckled, hands catching the edge of the cold steel bench as if the earth was spinning too fast to hold him."No, no, no!" he growled, chest heaving. "You’re lying. You’re fucking lying!""I wish I was," the nurse said, voice low. "But there was… no pulse."Vincenzo’s scream ripped through the corridor. A deep, guttural sound that tore his soul in half.Francesca gasped and turned away, covering her mouth.Nico collapsed against Lucas, sobbing violently.Isadora’s legs gave out and she crumpled into Leonti’s ar

  • THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY   The Blood we spilled.

    "He’s still bleeding, goddammit!" Francesca's voice cracked like a whip through the chaos.She dropped to her knees beside Noel’s limp body, her hands slick with blood. “Manuel!” she screamed, her throat raw. “You’re a doctor, do something! Apply pressure, anything…just help him!”But Manuel didn’t move right away.Because Vincenzo was still cradling Noel’s body, gripping him so tightly it was like he thought letting go would let death win. His face was a mask of devastation..blood and sea water streaked down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were wide, hollow, locked on Noel’s unmoving face.“Vincenzo,” Manuel said gently, kneeling. “I need to help him. If you don’t let me..”“No.” Vincenzo’s voice was hoarse, breaking. “He’s still warm. He’s still..he’s still breathing.”“If you don’t let go now, we’ll lose him,” Manuel snapped, firmer this time. “I need to put pressure on the wound before he bleeds out.”Vincenzo’s arms trembled. His grip didn’t loosen.But then No

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