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Chapter 27: The Man in the Balcony
Last Updated:
2025-11-17 13:43:17
Latest chapter
The Devil In White Chapter 28
I push Marco’s door open with one finger; it gives the smallest inch and swings inward without resistance. Of course—he lives like he’s untouchable and leaves his door unlocked in a house full of people who would slit his throat for half the crown. I step inside and close the door behind me just enough so it looks shut but won’t latch; if he comes back unexpectedly I want the sound to warn me before the smile. The room hits me with the usual mix—old wood and cigar smoke softened by expensive cologne—and nothing about it matters except what it hides. Marco keeps his place neat because neatness is control; neatness is a story he tells the world about himself, not something I came to admire.I go straight to the desk. The top drawer yields pens and envelopes and the kind of stationery that means people write letters they don’t intend to keep; I don’t waste time scanning receipts. The second drawer offers a photograph of him and my father with the practiced handshake and polite faces that
The Devil In White Chapter 27: The Man in the Balcony
Adrian POV The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, but the air still carried the aftertaste of the storm — that thick, damp heaviness that sticks to your skin and makes the whole city feel like it’s holding its breath. The kind of quiet that isn’t peace. Just… a pause. A warning. I stood on the balcony outside my father’s old office, palms resting against cold stone, eyes tracing the fog curling around the streetlamps. Nothing moved. Not the leaves, not the shadows, not even the wind. Stillness like that wasn’t natural. Not in my world. Not anymore. Behind me, the villa murmured: guards rotating shifts, steel dragging lightly against marble, someone giving low instructions that carried just enough urgency to bother me. Everything sounded normal. Everything felt wrong. I rubbed my thumb along my father’s ring — silver, worn, heavier than it looked. That habit used to calm me. Lately, it only reminded me that I’m sitting in a seat designed to turn men into monsters. A soft
The Devil In White Chapter 26: The Man in the Shadows
Adrian POV Yhe sense that I’m walking straight into the same darkness my father lived in… and never got out of. I move down the west wing corridor, hands in the pockets of my coat, pretending the walk is casual. It isn’t. I want eyes on Marco’s territory — the people he talks to, the ones he avoids, the ones who practically bow when he walks past. Men reveal everything when they think you’re not looking. The halls are quiet, but the quiet feels staged. A little too perfect. A little too clean. Halfway through the corridor, I stop. A man — one of Marco’s guards — slips a sealed envelope into Marco’s room. Quick, precise, practiced. Like he’s done it before. He turns to leave. He freezes when he sees me. His eyes widen just enough. “Boss,” he says, straightening instantly. I keep my hands in my pockets. “You look nervous.” He swallows. “Just delivering something.” “Open it.” His throat bobs. “It’s—it’s for Marco.” “And I’m telling you to open it.” For a second, he seems
The Devil In White Chapter 25: The Quiet Before the War
Adrian POV)The rain had stopped hours ago, but the air still carried that damp heaviness—like the city hadn’t decided if it wanted to breathe again or drown quietly. I stood on the balcony outside my father’s old office, watching the streetlights flicker in the fog. Everything felt too still. Too polite. Too… wrong.Silence like this never meant peace. It meant someone else was moving.Behind me, the villa murmured with the low hum of guards changing shifts. A few whispered instructions. The scrape of boots against marble. Nothing unusual, and yet… something inside me stayed alert, like a blade pressed against the back of my neck.I rubbed my thumb along the silver ring on my hand—my father’s ring—and let myself think for a moment. Not plan, not react. Just think.God knows I hadn’t done enough of that lately.A soft knock broke the quiet.“Enter,” I said.Luca stepped in, one arm still in a bandage, though he pretended it didn’t hurt. His face looked older today. More tired. Maybe w
The Devil In White Chapter 24: Storms Don’t Knock, They Break In
Adrian’s POV:The storm outside felt like it wanted to tear the whole damn world in half.Maybe it already did.Luca and I drove through the rain with the wipers fighting for their life. I kept thinking about Isabella—her face when I told her I doubted her. The way her eyes shook like she was holding something heavy inside. Something she didn’t want me to see.God, I hated myself for noticing.I shouldn’t care.Not anymore.Not when everything around me is falling to pieces.But I did.And that scared me more than any bullet.“Boss,” Luca said suddenly, snapping me out of my head. His voice was tight. “The trail ends here.”I looked up. We had arrived at one of the old eastern watch posts—my father’s territory back when he was younger and meaner. The whole place smelled like rust and ghosts.I stepped out of the car. The rain smacked my face, cold and sharp. Good. Maybe it would wake me up from whatever the hell was happening in my chest.Luca checked his gun. I checked mine.The buil
The Devil In White CHAPTER 23: A Man Made of Smoke And Fire
Adrian’s POVThe drive back from the docks felt longer than it should’ve. Rain hammered the windshield in violent sheets, each drop like a warning from the sky itself. Luca sat beside me, silent, bandaged, staring at the road as if it might rearrange itself at any moment.Something had shifted tonight.Not outside.Inside me.As the gates to the villa groaned open, the guards stepped aside quickly, eyes lowered. They felt it too. The energy. The cold. The danger.I used to walk into this place as a son.Now I walked in as a storm.I headed straight to my father’s study—the one room in the house where ghosts still lived. The leather chair faced the window, its shadow long and sharp. I stopped just inside the doorway.A memory slammed into me: Vittorio sitting there, cigar in hand, telling me that one day this room would belong to me.I hated him for being right.I stepped behind the desk, my fingers brushing the scarred wood. Luca stood by the door, waiting.“You found nothing else at
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