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Embers In The Blood

āļœāļđāđ‰āđ€āļ‚āļĩāļĒāļ™: Nana A
last update āļ›āļĢāļąāļšāļ›āļĢāļļāļ‡āļĨāđˆāļēāļŠāļļāļ”: 2025-06-17 15:20:23

The train to Prague cut through mist and shadow like a knife. Steel wheels on ancient rails, frost creeping up the windows, and Camilla’s reflection caught in the glass—eyes that hadn’t slept in days, a jaw clenched with the weight of choices.

She had the Omega file in her coat pocket. A name on a page. But to her, it was more than that.

Vincenzo Callas.

Her mother’s cousin.

Her father’s rival.

A man who had once lit a fire beneath her family’s empire, only to vanish into the smog of scandal, prison, and presumed death.

And now, he was alive. Under Valentin’s banner.

The compartment door slid open. Marco stepped in, shaking off the cold.

He hadn’t wanted her to come alone. But she had insisted.

“You know if we find him,” Marco said, folding his arms, “this won’t be a negotiation.”

Camilla looked out the window. “I’m not here to make peace.”

He sat beside her, voice low. “You ever ask your mother about him?”

“She said he was brilliant. Ambitious. But broken in ways none of
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  • The Mafia Protocol   The Mirror That Bleeds

    The private jet cut through the night sky like a blade, its interior cloaked in silence. Riccardo sat beside Camilla, the flickering glow of a laptop screen painting shadows across his face. Opposite them, Yuki pored over satellite tracking logs while Marco and Alexi double-checked weapon inventories. But Camilla? She hadn’t said a word since boarding. Her thoughts spun like a hurricane. DCamillan. The man who had once bled beside her in the Brazilian jungleâ€Ķ who pulled her from burning wreckage in Naplesâ€Ķ was a ghost. A lie wrapped in loyalty. And now, he had vanished—taking with him whatever remnants of Valentin’s plan were still in motion. “He’s in Prague,” Yuki finally said, breaking the silence. “Or at least he was.” She turned the laptop toward them. “Last confirmed visual was two hours ago near the Old Town Square. Then he vanished. Again.” Camilla leaned forward. “If he’s hiding in Prague, it’s not random.” “It’s not,” Marco agreed. “Prague was one of Valentin’s ear

  • The Mafia Protocol   The Knife Behind The Curtain

    The London sky wept softly, a constant drizzle painting the city in a melancholic haze. In a quiet townhouse tucked between marble façades, the safe house was temporarily calm. But inside, tension thrummed beneath the surface like an untuned wire. Camilla stood at the window, arms crossed as she stared out into the rain. The world had changed—again. Valentin was dead. His facility was destroyed. But the silence that followed victory always felt the most dangerous. The kind of silence predators thrived in. Behind her, Marco finished cleaning a bloodied knife on a rag. “You did good, Camilla.” She turned. “We all did.” “Still.” He studied her with an expression that bordered on wary pride. “You were the reason we got the drive out. If this network can be traced—” “We burn the rest,” she finished for him. Marco nodded. A knock came at the door. Yuki entered with Alexi trailing behind, both of them looking like they’d run a marathon through hell. Alexi’s shoulder was bandaged, b

  • The Mafia Protocol   Shadows Over London

    The flight to London felt different. Not because of the destination, but because of what they were carrying. Dr. Sian Takahara sat shackled in a reinforced seat, silent and unmoved. Her expression remained unreadable, even when turbulence rattled the plane. She was either fearless—or completely detached from consequences. Camilla sat opposite her, studying the woman who may have designed the most insidious takeover the underworld had ever seen. “You don’t strike me as a woman who believes in chaos,” Camilla said. Dr. Takahara smiled faintly. “I believe in calculated order. Chaos is for amateurs.” “Then why Valentin?” Camilla asked. “He’s a warmonger. A manipulator.” “He’s a visionary,” the doctor replied. “You mistake fire for destruction, when it can be used to forge steel.” Camilla shook her head. “No. I know a fire when I see one. And I know what’s burned in its path.” Takahara leaned forward slightly, chains clinking. “You think you’re different, Camilla. That you’re pres

  • The Mafia Protocol   Infernal Agreement

    The walls of the interrogation room were built to be soundproof. But silence wasn’t just a feature—it was a weapon. Vincenzo sat shackled to the chair, his arm tightly bandaged, but his smile—smug and unwavering—remained. Across the table, Camilla observed him like a surgeon would a patient before a critical operation. “You’ve been quiet,” Vincenzo mused. “Does that mean you’re considering my offer?” Camilla didn’t respond. She slid a manila folder across the table. Inside were surveillance stills, financial transfers, and classified communications pulled from his servers. “Valentin’s been bleeding the Eastern front,” she said calmly. “We found the safehouses in Warsaw and Budapest. You were coordinating the new nerve gas shipment set for Amsterdam.” “Correct,” he replied, not even flinching. “And?” Camilla leaned forward. “And you’re going to give us the names of the handlers. All of them.” Vincenzo tilted his head. “You’re not here to make a deal, are you?” “I’m here to giv

  • The Mafia Protocol   Embers In The Blood

    The train to Prague cut through mist and shadow like a knife. Steel wheels on ancient rails, frost creeping up the windows, and Camilla’s reflection caught in the glass—eyes that hadn’t slept in days, a jaw clenched with the weight of choices. She had the Omega file in her coat pocket. A name on a page. But to her, it was more than that. Vincenzo Callas. Her mother’s cousin. Her father’s rival. A man who had once lit a fire beneath her family’s empire, only to vanish into the smog of scandal, prison, and presumed death. And now, he was alive. Under Valentin’s banner. The compartment door slid open. Marco stepped in, shaking off the cold. He hadn’t wanted her to come alone. But she had insisted. “You know if we find him,” Marco said, folding his arms, “this won’t be a negotiation.” Camilla looked out the window. “I’m not here to make peace.” He sat beside her, voice low. “You ever ask your mother about him?” “She said he was brilliant. Ambitious. But broken in ways none of

  • The Mafia Protocol   The Lazarus File

    The fire began in Switzerland. Not a literal one—not yet—but the first strike in Riccardo and Camilla’s counterattack ignited within Geneva’s glass-and-steel financial district. Valentin’s safe havens had always hidden behind nations’ neutrality and institutional blind spots. Not anymore. Camilla sat inside a sleek black SUV parked a block away from the headquarters of a global banking firm that had, for over a decade, quietly funneled untraceable funds to Valentin’s shell companies. Beside her, Isadora adjusted her earpiece. “The backdoor is open. I’m in the system.” From the front seat, Marco’s voice was low but tense. “We have a ten-minute window. The front desk is clear. Cameras are looped. Guards on the 18th and 20th floors are on a fake fire drill.” Camilla glanced at Riccardo, who sat beside her in silence, his fingers clasped over his knee, gaze hard. He finally spoke. “Let’s take our ghost’s ledger.” They moved fast. Up the service elevator, down a back hall, through

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