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CYBER VEINS AND POISONED BLOOD

last update publish date: 2026-01-15 16:40:33
Luca’s POV

The penthouse was a warzone of flickering emergency lights and shattered glass. Enzo’s drones hovered like mechanical vultures, red eyes scanning for heat signatures. Their blades whirred softly, deadly promises. Father Pietro’s confession still rang in my ears—I orchestrated the poison for Marco. For Viktor. The priest’s hands shook around his cross, tears cutting tracks through dust on his face. Redemption? Or just another layer of self-preservation?

Dante stood beside me, gun s
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  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE FOREVER LIGHT

    Amara’s POVOne thousand years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At one thousand and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. One thousand years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every single

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE INFINITE HORIZON

    Amara’s POVOne thousand years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At one thousand and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. One thousand years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every single

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   BEYOND FOREVER

    Amara’s POVFive hundred years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At five hundred and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. Five hundred years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every single

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE INFINITE LEGACY

    Amara’s POVThree hundred years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At three hundred and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. Three hundred years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every sin

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE INFINITE SHORE

    Amara’s POVTwo hundred years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At two hundred and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. Two hundred years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every single da

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE FOREVER TIDE

    Amara’s POVOne hundred and fifty years after we burned the old empire and chose a different life, the atoll had become something that no longer needed our protection — it protected those who came after.I sat on the familiar bench at the end of the main dock as the sun slipped toward the horizon, painting the lagoon in shades of rose and deep gold. My hands rested in my lap, the walking stick Tunde had carved for me long ago leaning against the railing. At one hundred and sixty-eight, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew.Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. One hundred and fifty years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy ov

  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   THE GENEVA SHADOW AND THE FINAL STRAIN

    Luca’s POVThe Gulfstream crossed the Urals at cruising altitude, leaving Siberia’s frozen hell behind like a bad dream. But the dream followed us feeds updating every few minutes with fresh horror. Irkutsk’s water supply now fully compromised; hospitals rationing bottled supplies while the Angara

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-24
  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   SKLIFOSOVSKY SHADOWS AND THE PERMAFROST PURGE

    Luca’s POVThe Sklifosovsky Emergency Hospital loomed like a Soviet-era monolith against Moscow’s slate-gray sky, its white facade cracked and stained from decades of winters. Floodlights cut through the swirling snow, casting long shadows over the quarantine barriers barbed wire hastily strung, FS

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-24
  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   YAKUTSK AFTERMATH AND THE STRAINS’ SECOND WAVE

    Luca’s POVThe snowcat’s treads chewed through fresh powder as we fled Shaft 47, the mine’s collapse still rumbling behind us like distant artillery. Lena’s body wrapped in emergency foil lay strapped across the rear deck, her blood already freezing in dark patches on the white canvas. The Yakut el

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-24
  • UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION   MOSCOW’S VEINS AND THE STRAINS’ FIRST BLOOD

    Luca’s POVMoscow’s winter dawn bled gray through the Arbat apartment’s bulletproof windows. The city outside moved in muted urgency: snowplows scraping asphalt, bundled figures hurrying past bread shops, distant church bells tolling like warnings. Inside, the terminal’s red alerts pulsed in rhythm

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-24
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