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A Game Of Ghosts
Last Updated:
2025-06-16 17:20:09
Latest chapter
The Mafia Protocol Poison In The Good
By dawn, the estate had been turned inside out. Walls stripped. Ceilings scanned. Every square inch of Riccardo’s stronghold was being swept for Valentin’s eyes. The security team worked in shifts, led by Dorian and Elias, but the truth weighed heavier than any weapon. Rossi had walked these halls like family. Slept beneath their roof. Sat at their table. And the whole time, he’d been a blade pointed at their backs. Isadora’s voice cut through the tension. “I’ve scrubbed the data. He sent over two hundred recordings—audio and visual—to a remote server.” Riccardo glanced up from the table. “Can you trace it?” She hesitated. “Only partway. Valentin’s server hops across three countries. But there’s a pattern in the timestamps. They correspond with one place he never disguised.” Camilla leaned in. “Where?” “Geneva.” Marco cursed. “That’s neutral territory.” “Not anymore,” Riccardo said coldly. “If he’s nesting there, we burn the nest.” But Camilla’s mind was turning on another
The Mafia Protocol A Game Of Ghosts
The morning after the raid was too quiet. The fires in Amsterdam still smoldered in Riccardo’s thoughts, but it was the silence that unsettled him more. No taunts from Valentin. No follow-up attacks. No trace of Rossi. Ghosts didn’t always haunt with chains and screams. Sometimes, they just disappeared—dragging your sanity with them. In the war room, Marco leaned over the laptop, zooming in on the still image Camilla had found—Rossi walking away from the cameras moments before the blast. “That’s not just someone ducking out,” he said. “That’s precision. Timed with the explosion. He wasn’t just missing—he was part of it.” Isadora tapped a key. “I ran a deeper scan. Rossi’s real name isn’t Matteo Rossi. His birth records were falsified ten years ago. Before that, he didn’t exist.” Riccardo’s eyes narrowed. “A plant. For a decade.” Marco whistled low. “That’s long-term investment. Valentin must’ve placed him here years ago, knowing one day we’d be enemies.” Camilla crossed her ar
The Mafia Protocol A Kingdom For Blood
The estate was no longer just a sanctuary—it was a fortress. After the Berlin attack, the staff was halved, security tripled. Drones hovered overhead day and night. Marco personally vetted every guard, every shipment, every piece of tech that entered or exited the grounds. And still, the air felt thinner. Like war was seeping through the cracks. Riccardo stood at the window of his study, watching the morning fog roll over the gardens. His knuckles were raw from hitting the training bags too hard. Sleep hadn’t come easily. Not after Valentin’s message. Not after seeing her picture in that man’s hand. Camilla entered quietly, dressed in black. Her hair tied back, her stance calm—but he could see the strain in her shoulders. “You’re not going to say it,” she said. He turned to her, one brow raised. She walked closer. “That this is your fault. That you should’ve killed Valentin when you had the chance. That you let Antonio get too close. That it’s all unraveling.” His silence wa
The Mafia Protocol The Judas Inside
The silence in the war room was thunderous. Riccardo hadn’t revealed the name. Not yet. Not even to Camilla. He stood at the far end of the chamber, Milo Granger’s whispered betrayal still ringing in his ears. Every face around the table—people he’d killed for, bled beside, trusted—suddenly wore a new shade of suspicion. Camilla stepped in front of him, her voice calm but edged. “Riccardo. Tell me who it is.” His jaw flexed. His gaze didn’t leave the map spread across the table, where the red markings now felt like bloodstains. “I need to confirm it first,” he said quietly. “Why?” “Because if I say the name, and I’m wrong, we destroy an innocent. And if I’m right…” He turned to her. “Then I’m about to execute someone who’s broken bread in our home.” Camilla’s stomach churned. Not because she doubted Riccardo—but because she knew what he was feeling. The betrayal. The rage. The restraint. “We do it together,” she said. “Whoever it is, we face it as one.” The investigation w
The Mafia Protocol Lines In The Ashes
The Falcone estate became a command center overnight. Encrypted communications flickered across screens. Maps were rolled open and marked with red ink. Trusted lieutenants were recalled from safe houses. The walls themselves felt like they were listening—as if the estate knew a war was brewing just beyond the gates. Camilla stood at the center of it all, no longer the outsider sold into this world, but its storm-forged queen. Riccard sat beside her at the head of the table, his shoulder bandaged but his voice firm. “The ledger confirms Valentin Chernov is alive,” he said. “Which means this war runs deeper than Kirov or Lorenzo Vitali. This is about retribution. And legacy.” Marco leaned forward. “You think Chernov’s building his own syndicate?” “No,” Riccard replied. “He’s building something worse. He’s uniting the ghosts of every empire we’ve crushed. Ex-French operatives, South American cartels, even rogue elements from MI6. And he’s using our history—Camilla’s father’s ledger
The Mafia Protocol The Cost Of Silence
The Falcone estate was bathed in the dusky gold of early evening, but inside the walls of its fortified security and thickened silence, tension hung like a fog. Camilla stood in front of the towering marble fireplace in the war room, arms folded tightly, her jaw clenched. Maps were pinned to the walls, strings connecting regions and names, photographs strewn across the central table like the fragments of a puzzle that refused to form a complete picture. But it was the empty chair at the head of the table—Riccardo’s chair—that made everything feel more fragile than ever. “He’s been gone too long,” Marco said, striding into the room. His tone was clipped, his expression unreadable. “He should have checked in by now.” Camilla’s voice was low. “He won’t. Not until he has what he needs.” “And if he’s walking into a trap?” Marco stepped closer. “We both know this isn’t just about the Russians or Bruno anymore. Someone is pulling strings from deeper in the shadows.” Camilla looked over
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