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The Fallout

作者: Nana A
last update 最終更新日: 2025-05-28 17:24:58

The morning after Mateo’s execution dawned quietly, as if the city itself was holding its breath. A thin veil of fog clung to the skyline, muffling sound and softening the harsh lines of steel and concrete. Inside Riccardo’s penthouse, the air was thick with something far more tangible than mist—relief, exhaustion, and the lingering weight of everything that had come before.

Camilla stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her arms folded over her chest, watching the first rays of sunlight pierce through the haze. She hadn’t slept. Neither had Riccardo.

Behind her, the bedroom was dim, the sheets untouched. Neither of them had made it that far.

“I thought it would feel different,” she murmured, not turning around.

Riccardo’s voice was low as he joined her at the window. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Triumph? Peace?” She let out a breath. “Instead, it feels like… the beginning of something else.”

Riccardo nodded. “Because it is.”

She turned to look at him. His eye
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  • The Mafia Protocol   The Ghost In The Machine

    The first rays of dawn sliced through the blinds, cutting the room into sharp, jagged pieces of light. Camilla sat at the desk in her study, the flickering screen casting a pale glow over her features. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart beating in time with the rapid pulses of her thoughts. Behind her, Riccardo entered quietly, as if he knew better than to interrupt the silence that surrounded her like a shroud. “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but warm. She didn’t turn to face him, not yet. Not when the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place so fast it made her head spin. “Holloway,” she said, voice almost a whisper. “He’s not just a lawyer. He’s the gateway.” Riccardo stepped closer, his presence anchoring her, as it always did. “The gateway to what?” “To everything,” Camilla replied. “The connections. The money laundering. The shell companies. He’s been running interference for every operation. Every dirty deal, every trade… It all goes through

  • The Mafia Protocol   Fire In The Blood

    The Romani estate was quiet—but not still. Inside its reinforced walls, preparations for war hummed through every corridor. Weapons were inspected, blueprints studied, alliances reaffirmed. The storm was no longer distant thunder. It was here, crashing through every beat of Camilla’s blood. In the center of it all, she stood at the head of the long table in the war room. The table where Riccardo once made all the decisions alone. Now they ruled together. “We strike within forty-eight hours,” she said, voice clear. “Matteo’s network is spread thin across Austria. If we take out the Linz compound, we disrupt his supply chain and force him to react.” Marco frowned slightly. “He’ll expect a frontal assault. He’ll have contingencies.” “Then we don’t go through the front,” Camilla replied. “We burn the foundation out from under him.” Riccardo stood behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “We’ll lead the charge. Isadora and Luca take Vienna and cut communication lines. Ma

  • The Mafia Protocol   The Trap Beneath The Crown

    The black sedan didn’t take the expected route. Instead of heading west toward the Czech-German border, it swerved south, vanishing into the mountain roads beyond Prague. Camilla and Riccardo, following at a safe distance in an unmarked vehicle, exchanged a silent glance. “This isn’t a delivery route,” Camilla murmured, fingers tight on the edge of her seat. “No,” Riccardo agreed. “This is a handoff.” From the back seat, Marco’s voice was clipped. “Coordinates place them near an abandoned chateau. Cold War relic. Intel says it’s been used for private auctions and… interrogations.” Riccardo’s expression darkened. “Then that’s where we find answers.” The chateau sat like a beast in the dark—massive, crumbling, half-swallowed by forest. It might have once been beautiful, but now it reeked of secrets and rot. Outside, armed guards patrolled the perimeter, faces hidden by night-vision goggles. Riccardo crouched beside Camilla behind the tree line, scanning the building with binocula

  • The Mafia Protocol   The Sovereign’s Shadow

    The morning after their return to Milan, Riccardo called a closed council meeting. Only the most trusted were summoned—Marco, Isadora, Luca, and Camilla. The war room was sealed tight, surveillance blocked, phones confiscated. Whatever was about to be said, Riccardo wanted no echoes. “We have a name,” Riccardo said, his voice calm but ice-edged. “The Sovereign.” Luca raised an eyebrow. “Codename?” Camilla nodded. “Yes. But it’s more than that. It’s a title—used in encrypted messages connected to Valerio and Crane. Every trace we’ve followed leads back to this name.” Marco leaned forward. “So who the hell is he?” Riccardo dropped a file onto the table. Inside: blurred photos, transaction records, and something that made Camilla’s stomach tighten—an image from an old Falcone gala. In the background stood a man in a tailored charcoal suit, his face half-obscured. Camilla pointed. “Who is that?” Riccardo’s voice dropped a register. “Matteo Falcone.” The room fell into stunned sile

  • The Mafia Protocol   The Devil’s Reflection

    The safehouse in Berlin was silent except for the soft hum of a decrypted server humming in the background. Camilla stood beside Marco and watched as lines of code scrolled across the screen, translating Crane’s backup drive into fragments of conversations, offshore account numbers, and—most notably—names. Her own included. “He was watching me,” Camilla muttered, her jaw clenched. “For months.” Marco tapped a few keys, isolating a surveillance log labeled: Subject: Camilla Knight-Falcone. Priority Level: Critical. “Crane wasn’t just selling information,” he said. “He was orchestrating leverage. Using you as bait.” “For what?” “To lure Riccardo out of his shell. Crane knew about the attempted coup against the Falcone family two years ago. Someone paid him to start pulling strings again. This wasn’t just about Lorenzo or the cartel—this was personal.” Riccardo entered the room, fresh from the rain, his coat damp and his eyes colder than steel. He scanned the screen, then Camilla.

  • The Mafia Protocol   Ghost Protocol

    The next morning brought more than silence. It brought a name. Marco stood in the doorway of Riccardo’s office, his expression unreadable but grim. Camilla was already seated at the table, sifting through the mountain of encrypted files Lorenzo had kept buried on a private drive they had recovered during the raid. The files had been handed over to Marco’s team for decryption—but something had come back sooner than expected. “Tell me you have a lead,” Riccardo said without looking up from the map sprawled across his desk. “I’ve got more than that,” Marco replied. “We cracked the code.” Camilla’s head snapped up. “Already?” Marco nodded. “It wasn’t just the manifest or internal ports. Lorenzo was receiving data dumps from someone inside the DEA.” The room went still. Riccardo looked up. “An inside agent?” “Former,” Marco clarified. “Name’s Elias Crane. Burned three years ago in an undercover op gone wrong. But instead of disappearing, he resurfaced in Europe… and has been quiet

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