Semua Bab Blood and Loyalty: Bab 31 - Bab 40

*Bianca’s POV*The night smelled of smoke and blood.We moved through the trees like fugitives — his arm bleeding, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. The safehouse glowed faintly behind us, one window flickering with the light of a fire spreading slow and greedy. It didn’t matter. There was nothing left in there worth saving.“Keep moving,” Alessandro said, voice taut.He stumbled once, catching himself on a low branch. I reached for him instinctively, but he shook me off, breath hissing through his teeth. Even in pain, he refused help.“Your shoulder—”“Later,” he bit out.Branches snapped underfoot, the sound too loud in the silence. The forest was a blur of black and silver — trees swaying like ghosts under the moonlight. My lungs burned, and every rustle made my pulse spike.“How far?” I whispered.“Half a mile. There’s an old trail that leads to the road.”“And then what?”He didn’t answer.The silence between us wasn’t safety. It was pressure — the kind th

*Bianca’s POV* The air inside the vent grew heavier the deeper I crawled. Metal groaned under my weight, the sound swallowed by the hum of machinery hidden within the walls. Every movement scraped my palms, tore at the thin fabric of my gown, but I didn’t stop. His voice had come from somewhere below — hoarse, clipped, unmistakably his. Alessandro. Alive. The name pulsed through me like a heartbeat, guiding me through the dark. I reached a junction where the duct split in two. Faint light bled through the right tunnel — not bright, just the flicker of fluorescent bulbs somewhere beyond. I pressed my ear against the metal, holding my breath. Voices again. Muffled. Male. “Orders are to keep him sedated until transfer.” Sedated. My pulse spiked. I angled right and began to crawl faster, ignoring the sting of every breath. The light grew stronger until it poured through a narrow grate ahead. I peered through the slits — and froze. It wasn’t a hospital room. It was a holding

The night clung to us like ash.Every breath burned. Every step felt heavier.The road from the facility wound down toward the docks — cracked asphalt, half-swallowed by weeds, the air thick with salt and smoke. Alessandro leaned into me more with each stride, his breath harsh against my neck.“Almost there,” I muttered. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.The docks were mostly deserted at this hour. A few floodlights glared over the warehouses, painting the fog in sickly yellow hues. Somewhere in the distance, a ship’s horn groaned — low and mournful.We ducked behind a stack of rusted shipping containers. I helped Alessandro slide down to sit, his back against the metal. The cold surface drew a hiss from him. He was shaking, jaw locked tight.“Let me see,” I said.He started to protest — of course he did — but one look from me was enough. I pulled his shirt up carefully. The bandage was soaked through, the wound beneath it angry and dark, but not deep enough to kill him. Not

Bianca’s POVBy the time the car stopped, dawn was bleeding into the horizon — a gray, tired kind of light that made everything look like ash.The mansion rose before us like a shadow carved out of marble and glass, its tall gates gleaming wet with dew. I’d seen places like it before — my father’s estate, his halls, his empire — but this was different. This one felt alive. Watched. Like the walls themselves could tell which of us belonged and which of us didn’t.Alessandro- Erico leaned heavily against the car door as I helped him out. He hadn’t said a word since we left the docks. His skin was pale, his jaw set tight, but his eyes — those unreadable gray eyes — stayed alert, scanning every corner even in his exhaustion.Two guards opened the gate without a word. Their gaze flicked over me — the blood, the torn dress — then immediately to Erico. And in that silent nod they gave him, I realized something:This was his world.And I was the outsider now.Inside, the house was all stone a

*Bianca’s POV*The room inhaled.Vincenzo’s hand stilled around his coffee cup. Paolo’s stoic face registered the faintest hitch of surprise. Gio’s smile vanished before it could form; even Mario, who rarely showed anything but appetite for mischief, sat straighter. Erico — Alessandro, to the ghost that still lived in her mouth — shifted in place like a coiled wire.I kept my finger in place, as if the map were an animal and I was calming it. The line was clean because it had to be. On paper the route moved antiques and textiles. At midnight it carried crates with no manifest and a blue tarp over a ledger. I pictured Luca Ferrante — his crooked nose, the soot still under his nails from when he’d once carried an antique lamp into my father’s office with a too-easy smile — and the room watched me as if I’d lit a fuse.“Luca Ferrante,” I added before I could stop herself. Saying his name felt like dropping a stone into a well: the ripples would reach everywhere. “Antiques dealer in Paler