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Ghost market
Last Updated:
2025-04-27 06:41:20
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The mafia’s captive The child of light
The Pyrenees fortress was restless.The wind had changed direction.Even the mountains held their breath.Inside the main war chamber, Petrov stared at a burning map of their last targets—Zurich’s dismantled occult-finance front and the charred Cairo ritual site. The Hollow King had lost two major arms. But the soul of Valeria’s darkness still thrived.Bain stood with Vulture, Sokolov, and Elias. Seraphina knelt at the rune-slab, whispering incantations of protection into the stone. Her voice trembled with exhaustion, but her magic was fierce.Behind them, Cassie approached slowly, her hand resting on her rounded stomach. Cassian trailed her, silent as ever, watching everything.Then, as the wind slammed against the ancient walls, Cassian blinked slowly… and looked up at his mother.“Mommy,” he said, “he’s almost here.”Cassie paused. “Who is?”Cassian placed his tiny hand on her stomach. “My brother.”Her breath caught.Bain turned toward them at once, eyes narrowing. “Cassian—what d
The mafia’s captive The four crowns
The fire crackled in the war chamber of Bain’s alpine fortress. Runes burned faintly along the walls—wards reinforced by Vulture’s hand and blessed with Petrov’s own blood. At the center of the chamber stood a round obsidian table, recently carved with a symbol that matched the mural Seraphina and Malthea uncovered: a circle of thorns enclosing four crowns.Cassian sat on a high stool beside his mother. Though just three, the boy watched everything.Elias, now eleven, stood near the window, eyes narrowed toward the mountains as if listening to something no one else could hear.“They’re moving,” he murmured. “Underneath.”Cassie turned toward him. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”Elias hesitated, then said, “The ones she made hollow… they’re walking below the dirt. Like ants.”Sokolov’s expression hardened. “We’ve seen nothing on the satellites.”“You won’t,” Elias replied. “They don’t cast shadows anymore.”Petrov muttered something in Russian under his breath.Bain’s jaw flexed. “We’r
The mafia’s captive Eye of the storm
Snow fell silently over Zurich’s financial district, coating the rooftops of glass towers in a deceptive calm. But below the surface, beneath an unmarked corporate vault known as Eidolon Trust, dark money pulsed through the veins of Valeria’s remaining network.Bain adjusted the black gloves over his tattooed knuckles, standing beside Vulture on the rooftop across the street.“She used this place to launder cult funds and finance Hollow experiments across Europe,” Vulture muttered. “Encrypted accounts. Biometrically sealed. Guarded by mercenaries that don’t know who they’re working for.”“Not for long,” Bain said, nodding to the earpiece. “On my mark.”Inside, the main elevator opened with a ding. A woman in a red coat—one of Vulture’s plants—stepped out, heels clicking sharply.Two guards turned to stop her.She smiled.And slit their throats in a heartbeat.Bain and Vulture moved in seconds later, their team sweeping through the vault with suppressors and thermite. Security cameras
The mafia’s captive Trial of souls
Vulture moved like a ghost between stone pillars, the ancient monastery looming above him like a skeleton of forgotten gods. The locals called it Crkva Tišine—the Church of Silence. No records of its origin remained. It had no clergy, no congregation—only stories of rituals performed in blood and gold under hollow skies.And now, a lead.He descended into the catacombs with only a single lantern and a blade laced with silver and wolfsbane. The Hollow King’s sigils had been sighted here, freshly carved into the skin of a drowned priest who had washed ashore two weeks prior. If Valeria was planning something global, this place was likely a nexus.At the heart of the tombs, Vulture found what he came for.A shrine.Built not for worship… but for storage. Inside, buried under layers of ash and time, lay blueprints. Not of buildings—but of rituals. Ones that turned bodies into conduits. Ones that siphoned the essence of saints and sinners alike.At the center was a diagram of a boy.Labele
The mafia’s captive Beneath the Basilica
The hidden lab was buried beneath what used to be a basilica outside of Prague — a ruined cathedral now overrun with rot and overgrowth. Bain stepped inside first, weapon drawn, Vulture at his side. The air was electric, humming with leftover magic that clung like wet spider silk to the walls.Petrov and Sokolov followed, weapons slung low, eyes sharp. They weren’t here for a gunfight. They were here for the final puzzle piece.“We found it,” Sokolov muttered as he passed under a rusted arch that had once read Sanctum Vita.“No,” Bain whispered. “We found her cradle.”The underground tunnel twisted downward, reeking of iron and old sorrow. As they descended into the heart of the lab, the temperature dropped. Runes pulsed softly along the walls — not just science, but sorcery. This was no ordinary trafficking lab or research site.This was where the Hollow King’s children were born.They entered a chamber flanked with rows of broken cribs and surgical chairs. Some still had restraints.
The mafia’s captive Ashes of war
It began in a shadow-draped alley behind the gutted cathedral of Vienna—once a center of Hollow experiments, now a ruin surrounded by silence.Bain and Vulture stood side by side, dressed in black, the sigils of the Thorned Circle engraved beneath their coats. Across from them, a woman emerged—pale, veiled, lips stitched shut.Her name was Mother Throe, a defected priestess of the Hollow cult.She held a small scroll bound in scarlet twine.Vulture tilted his head. “You know the price if this is a trick.”Mother Throe didn’t speak. Instead, she unrolled the scroll with trembling fingers and showed them a name—Cardinal Saur, one of the last living architects of Valeria’s war, hidden beneath a monastery in Prague.“He guards the third mirror,” Bain said. “The one tied to Cassian.”Mother Throe nodded once, then backed into the shadows.She didn’t need payment. Her eyes—wet with blood—had already seen what Valeria would do to traitors.Bain tucked the scroll into his coat. “Let’s burn a
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