Semua Bab The Devil's Vow #2: The Viel of Vengeance: Bab 61 - Bab 70

It was a warm afternoon, deceptive in its calm. The sun filtered through the tall windows of the Moretti estate's conference room, casting golden streaks across the polished wood table. But there was no warmth in the room. Not among the people seated around that table. Not with the truth finally laid bare before us. The Hash Family had betrayed us. I sat quietly in a chair beside Helios, our fingers entwined beneath the table. He hadn’t said much since the meeting began, but I could feel the tension in him like a live wire. His jaw clenched every time another piece of evidence was presented, every time another thread led back to the same conclusion: the Hash Family had been playing both sides. For weeks, the Morettis and the Volkovs had been circling the truth like predators in the dark. Assassination attempts, leaked information, attacks designed to make us blame one another. It had nearly worked. Until tonight. Isabella sat across from me, her expression unreadable but her eyes

War didn’t wait for anyone. It came like a storm through the city streets—sudden, loud, and brutal. Explosions lit up the sky like firecrackers. The sound of gunfire echoed down alleyways and across rooftops. The city had become a battlefield. The Morettis moved in like shadows, fast and calculated. Every man and woman knew their role, and I had mine. I was dressed in black from head to toe, two blades strapped to my sides, a handgun at my back. Helios was beside me, his rifle slung over one shoulder, his movements quiet but deadly. We moved like we had done this a thousand times—because we had. Different cities, different names, but always the same dance. “Stay close,” he said, voice low, but I could hear the edge of worry beneath it. “I always do.” We were in one of the industrial zones, moving toward a warehouse known to be a Hash Family stronghold. The intel had been solid. Matteo and Isabella were moving in from the east. We were the west flank. The first shots came fast.

The hospital room was quiet—too quiet, considering the chaos still unfolding beyond these sterile white walls. Helios lay unconscious beside me, his chest rising and falling in shallow, steady breaths. Machines beeped gently beside him, counting down the seconds of borrowed time. I sat curled in the visitor's chair, one hand holding his, the other clutching the remote as the television murmured soft, tragic updates about the city. “Terrorist attacks continue to shake the southern districts,” the anchor said with practiced urgency. “Civilians are urged to stay indoors and avoid conflict zones. Reports suggest organized crime may be involved, though nothing is confirmed.” Terrorism. That was the word they used to veil it. To the world outside, it was fear. Bombs. Gunfire. Smoke. Chaos. But I knew better. This wasn’t random violence. This was war. A full-scale mafia war. And the Morettis were burning the Hash Family to the ground. The Valkovs were aiding behind the scenes, sending

The war was over. Smoke still lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the violence that had consumed the city for days. The streets were eerily quiet now—too quiet. It was a strange kind of silence, not peaceful, but hollow, like a city holding its breath. There were no more gunshots, no screams, no calls for help. Just the wind rustling through the alleyways and the occasional distant siren. The Morettis and the Valkovs had won. But victory came with a price. We had lost people. Good people. Men and women who had stood beside us, who had bled and fought for something they believed in. I would see their faces for the rest of my life. Some I’d trained with. Some I’d laughed with. Some I’d only known for moments—but those moments had mattered. I sat in a small room in what remained of one of the Moretti safehouses, my back pressed against the wall, the low hum of a nearby generator the only thing keeping the silence from swallowing me whole. Helios was beside me on the floor, h

The shower steam curled around them like a veil, humid and thick, the water pouring down in rhythmic pulses that matched the heat building between their bodies. Elena’s back pressed against the cool tile wall as Helios towered over her, his lips a breath away from hers. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin with a possessiveness that made her shiver—not from the cold, but from the raw hunger in his eyes. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he growled, his voice low and raspy, almost drowned out by the sound of the water. His gaze burned into hers, unwavering, as if he could see straight through her, straight into the need coiled tight in her core. Elena’s breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’m not going to take it slow. Not this time.” Before she could respond, his hands were on her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the bathroom counter. The cold marble hit her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. Heli