LOGINWhispers of Loyalty isn’t just a love story. It’s a storm of secrets, betrayal, and forbidden desire. Alana Vittore has always been the perfect daughter that’s delicate, graceful, and untouchable in the shadow of her powerful mafia family. But when Zach Pierce walks into her world, everything she thought she knew begins to crack. He’s reckless and raw, the kind of man who should have been nothing more than a distraction. Instead, he becomes her greatest temptation. What Alana doesn’t know is that Zach carries his own secrets, dark truths tied to bloodlines and betrayals that could destroy everything between them. In a world where loyalty is currency and love is weakness, the two of them are forced to choose: obey the empire that raised them or burn it all down for each other. Every glance is dangerous. Every kiss is a risk. And every whisper might be their undoing.
View MoreZACHThe house should have been silent.Instead, it breathed.Every shadow, every room, every corner felt like it was pulling in a breath it would never release. A house built on blood and loyalty, now hollowed out by the one thing even war couldn’t prepare me for.Grief.Real grief.The kind that doesn’t stab — it drags.It pulls you under, slow and suffocating, until drowning feels like mercy.I sat on the floor of our bedroom with my back against the wall, knees drawn up, Alana’s necklace twisted in my fist. It cut into my palm each time I squeezed, but I didn’t stop. I wanted the pain. Needed it. Needed something sharper than the emptiness eating its way through my ribs.Her blood was still under my fingernails.I couldn’t bring myself to wash it off.It wasn’t gore.It wasn’t horror.It was proof she’d been real.Proof she’d lived.Proof she’d died in my arms.I closed my eyes, and the memory spilled across the darkness like a film I couldn’t shut off.Her breath hitching.Her fi
ZACHThe storm rolled in fast.Not the kind that rattled windows or scattered branches across the lawn.The other kind—the quiet storm, the wrong storm, the one where everything goes too still before it breaks.We knew he was coming.Gia had felt it.Niko had sensed it.I’d felt it in Alana’s pulse, in the way her breaths had turned shallow as the night deepened, in the way she kept looking over her shoulder like someone was whispering her name from the dark.But when it happened, it was still too fast.Too sudden.Too goddamn inevitable.We were in the old courtyard, moving between dead ivy and broken stone, heading toward the west wing where our intel said L had funneled his men. Alana was ahead of me, steps sharp, shoulders drawn tight beneath her coat. She moved like she knew where he would be. Like she’d been here before—maybe in a dream, maybe in a nightmare, maybe in a destiny she never asked for.“Alana, slow down,” I murmured.She didn’t.She couldn’t.Her hand brushed the st
ALANAThe house felt different when we re-entered it.Not safer.Not familiar.Just smaller.As if every room was narrowing around us, funneling us toward a single collision point none of us could see but all of us could feel. Even the air felt thinner, like the walls had learned how to breathe—and were waiting for one of us to falter.Zach walked ahead of me, his hand wrapped around mine so tightly it should’ve hurt.It didn’t.His grip wasn’t possessive.It was protective.Desperate.A silent promise forced through the cracks of fear.Gia and Niko followed behind us. I could hear the shift of their weapons, the muted rustle of gear, the whispered tension riding the line between instinct and dread.Whoever L was—whatever he wanted—he wasn’t hiding anymore.He was circling.Watching.Choosing his moment.And every step I took deeper into the house, I felt him like a shadow slipping under my skin.Zach squeezed my hand once, sharply.“You’re quiet again,” he muttered without turning.
ZACHThe engine hummed beneath my hands, but it did nothing to ground me.Nothing could—not when the image of L standing in that chamber replayed behind my eyes like a sickness I couldn’t shake.Alana’s breathing beside me was the only steady thing in the world.Soft. Controlled.Too controlled.She stared out the window as we drove, her fingers tangled together in her lap. Not nervous. Not frightened.Thinking.And that terrified me more than anything L had said.She didn’t look shattered.She looked sharpened.Like the prophecy wasn’t crushing her—it was sculpting her. Into what, I didn’t fucking know. But every time she went quiet like this, I felt something slipping just out of my reach.“You’re too silent,” I muttered finally.She blinked out of her thoughts and glanced at me. “You want me to scream instead?”“I want you to talk to me.”“I am.”“No,” I growled, gripping the wheel tighter. “You’re talking around me. Skirting. Editing.”Her lips pressed into a thin line. She turned






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