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The Warehouse Makes Choices(chapt. 160)

Penulis: Stone
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-11-01 18:06:08

The van sped into the industrial district, almost as if it were fleeing from something. The rain had picked up again — sharp and stinging — and the city was awash in the scent of damp concrete and oil. Sirens echoed in the distance, but tonight they felt closer: boots crunching, radios crackling, and men who gave off a vibe of wealth and danger.

Nikolai drove aggressively; Matteo sat up front, constantly checking the mirrors. Giovanni held the dashboard tightly, knuckles pale. Alessia had the drive resting in her lap, the weight of it a constant reminder of the stakes. Every second ticked away like a beat of a metronome, leading them closer to chaos.

Forty minutes wasn’t long. Just a brief moment, really. They navigated the streets with a cold efficiency — three turns, a flickering old billboard, a rusty fence — then glided into a shadowy loading yard where a lone white van was idling. No plates, no lights. Just their breath showing in the chill air.

“Target’s in the east unit,” M
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    As night enveloped Milan, the city lights sparkled like a kingdom honoring its new rulers. The courthouse had cleared out hours earlier, but the weight of the world's gaze lingered, coursing through every street and flickering on every screen. Emilio’s downfall didn't just happen in a moment— it signified a global reckoning. Alessia stood atop the Volkov tower, the wind lifting her hair like a dark crown. Below, the chants still roared. Crowds filled the streets, celebrating the fall of a tyrant. Her name echoed, promising a different future. She sensed Nikolai's presence before hearing him. His warmth surrounded her—fierce, loyal, and unwavering. “It’s done,” he said softly. “No,” she corrected him, her voice firm. “Now it begins.” He joined her at the edge, his gaze piercing the jubilant crowd below. “The council’s sending someone over to finalize your position,” Nikolai informed her. “By morning, they’ll crown you as the head of the De Luca empire.” “And you?” she asked, c

  • Twisted vows    The Fall Begins (chapt. 172)

    The courtroom buzzed with chaos, making the chandeliers shake. Reporters were shouting over each other, security was setting up barricades, and government officials were chatting with nervous whispers. Emilio couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he stared at Alessia, realizing he had lost grip on her. But she remained unshaken. “You built your empire over dead bodies,” Alessia said, her voice composed and striking. “Including my sister’s. And so many innocent families. And today, every one of those victims finally gets a voice.” Screens lit up the walls, revealing evidence that shocked the world. There were offshore accounts tied directly to hit contracts, smuggling routes, the names of bribed officials, unmarked graves, and confession videos from his once-loyal enforcers—now speaking out against him. Emilio’s calm facade started to crumble. “You think you’ve won, little girl?” he spat. “You’re nothing without—” Nikolai stepped in, his presence sharp and intimidating. “Withou

  • Twisted vows    The Last Escape (chapt. 171)

    The night air hit us hard as we raced down Monte Carlo’s coastal highway — the dark sea raging to our right, neon lights blurring behind us. Giovanni drove like a man possessed, tires screaming against the asphalt. Up ahead, a black sedan was weaving through traffic like it was going to get away. “Our rat thinks he can swim to freedom,” Nikolai muttered, his gaze locked on Emilio’s disappearing taillights. “He’s trapped,” Yuri added, loading his rifle. “Cornered dogs bite.” I leaned in, adrenaline coursing through me like molten metal. “Let him bite. I’ll take care of his teeth.” Nikolai shot me a look — he looked hurt, worn out, but I saw that fire in his eyes matching mine. We weren’t just hunting here; we were claiming a throne, drenched in blood. Sirens wailed behind us — police closing in on the gunfire at the casino. Giovanni cursed and pressed the pedal down harder. “Once we reach the docks, they’ll hold us up,” he shouted. “We have to get Emilio before the cops do, or t

  • Twisted vows    The Devil’s Escape Route (chapt. 170)

    The back corridors of the casino felt like a maze made for fleeing royalty — sterile white walls, buzzing fluorescent lights, and a faint mix of bleach and greed. Our footsteps echoed as we chased, guns drawn and breaths sharp. “Left,” Nikolai whispered, glancing at a trail of fresh blood smeared on the wall like breadcrumbs. Emilio was injured. Good — fear made him careless. We moved in sync, even with his injury slowing him down a bit. My senses were razor-sharp; every flicker, creak, and distant radio buzz shouted danger. Above us, the casino still roared with chaos — Yuri and Giovanni were buying us precious seconds by holding off reinforcements. Then, a scream pierced the corridor — a security guard fell ahead, throat slit. Not our doing. Nikolai crouched next to the dying man, studying the wound. “Professional,” he muttered. “Someone Roger-knifed him. Silent, clean.” “Someone working with Emilio,” I suggested. “No.” He rose slowly. “Someone protecting him.” We pressed on

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    Monte Carlo sparkled like a well-told lie — bright lights, sleek marble, and countless smiling faces hiding something rotten underneath. The air was thick with the scent of money and perfume, almost suffocating for anyone unprepared. This was Emilio’s playground; rich enough to conceal a monster and loud enough to drown out screams. But we didn’t come to play. The black SUV rolled to a stop just outside the casino’s private entrance. Nikolai adjusted his jacket, hiding the healing wound beneath. He moved a bit slower than usual, but his cold, steel-like eyes missed nothing. “You sure you’re ready?” I asked, my hand hovering near his arm but not making contact. He hated looking fragile. He shot me a glance, lips curling into a half smile. “Ready is a luxury we’ve never had.” According to Rossi’s intel, the colonel — Emilio’s old military contact — would be inside, wrapping up an escape plan. If we could grab him quickly, we might turn his loyalties with the right kind of pressure

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    By the time dawn broke over the city, we already had a plan. Not the polished, ideal sort you see in movies — more like a jagged list of options held together by anger and urgency. But hey, it was ours, and that’s what mattered. The med bay was filled with the smell of antiseptic and strong coffee. Nikolai looked pale but determined, his eyes showing pain and an unusual sort of determination. The surgery team had done what they could; they had removed the bullet, but his recovery was going to take time. He wasn’t going to lie in bed like some helpless thing, so he was up bright and early, tapping away on a tablet, plotting our next move like a general who had everything on the line. I slid into the chair next to him, clutching a hot paper cup. “You sure you should be moving that arm?” He glanced at me, grinning crookedly. “You’re always telling me to stop being so dramatic. Lead by example, right?” I snorted in response. “When did I ever give you advice worth following?”

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