All Chapters of The mafia’s captive : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The Cult of the HollowValeria bled into the altar.Not metaphorically—literally. She pressed the ceremonial dagger to her palm and dragged the blade down in a jagged line, the coppery scent of her blood curling through the chamber like incense. It dripped into the stone basin before her, mixing with crushed nightshade and the ground bones of stillborn twins.Around her, the cult chanted.They were not witches. Not in the true sense.They were fragments — shattered glass from covens long dead, men and women who had torn out their own magic and replaced it with something else. Something that watched from the Hollow.They wore masks fashioned from infant skulls and black feathers, and their words were older than sin.Valeria had nothing left.Her empire—gone.Her face—scarred, half burned in the final explosion Bain had triggered in her last lair.Her body—withered, starving from the rituals.But her will remained intact. And so did her hate.“The Hollow King hears you,” said the High D

The Circle of FourIn the war chamber beneath the Austrian fortress, the air vibrated with arcane energy.Cassie stood within a painted circle, hand resting over her stomach where their second child grew. She was calm, focused, her aura pulsing faintly gold. Cassian slept peacefully in a nearby room, guarded by an inner wall of runes layered by Petrov, Vulture, and Sokolov.Across from her stood Elias—hood drawn, hands aglow with inherited power.To one side, Seraphina lit the sanctified candles with murmured invocations in Enochian, while Bain placed the relic blade—taken from one of Valeria’s earliest ritual victims—at the center of the warded diagram.“Ready?” he asked.Cassie nodded.Elias looked up. “She’s listening.”A cold wind snaked through the stone vault, though the chamber was sealed. The shadows along the walls rippled as if breathing.Vulture muttered, “Feels like we’re summoning a damn god.”“No,” Seraphina whispered. “We’re warning one.”The spell began with Elias’s vo

Black Glass and Shattered VeilsIn Zurich, Bain stood amidst the smoking ruin of what had once been a pristine hedge fund front. The windows were shattered. The server room had been dismantled. Vulture’s hands were still covered in the ash of occult paper scrolls—contracts written in blood, binding thousands of orphaned souls into algorithmic rituals.“She used finance to fund sacrifice,” Vulture muttered, setting a flame to the last server drive. “A hedge fund laundering pain.”Bain’s eyes narrowed as he stepped through the blood-coded encryption vault. Symbols lined the walls in liquid obsidian.And at the center: a vat.Within it, fragments of children’s teeth floated in a thick, humming serum.“Bastardized consecration ritual,” Vulture said. “This is where she converted trauma into currency.”“Burn it all,” Bain commanded. “And spread the ashes into the Rhine.”They left no trace. Only fire.As they exited, a whisper brushed Bain’s mind—subtle but ancient.She watches through more

The hidden lab was buried beneath what used to be a basilica outside of Prague — a ruined cathedral now overrun with rot and overgrowth. Bain stepped inside first, weapon drawn, Vulture at his side. The air was electric, humming with leftover magic that clung like wet spider silk to the walls.Petrov and Sokolov followed, weapons slung low, eyes sharp. They weren’t here for a gunfight. They were here for the final puzzle piece.“We found it,” Sokolov muttered as he passed under a rusted arch that had once read Sanctum Vita.“No,” Bain whispered. “We found her cradle.”The underground tunnel twisted downward, reeking of iron and old sorrow. As they descended into the heart of the lab, the temperature dropped. Runes pulsed softly along the walls — not just science, but sorcery. This was no ordinary trafficking lab or research site.This was where the Hollow King’s children were born.They entered a chamber flanked with rows of broken cribs and surgical chairs. Some still had restraints.

Snow fell silently over Zurich’s financial district, coating the rooftops of glass towers in a deceptive calm. But below the surface, beneath an unmarked corporate vault known as Eidolon Trust, dark money pulsed through the veins of Valeria’s remaining network.Bain adjusted the black gloves over his tattooed knuckles, standing beside Vulture on the rooftop across the street.“She used this place to launder cult funds and finance Hollow experiments across Europe,” Vulture muttered. “Encrypted accounts. Biometrically sealed. Guarded by mercenaries that don’t know who they’re working for.”“Not for long,” Bain said, nodding to the earpiece. “On my mark.”Inside, the main elevator opened with a ding. A woman in a red coat—one of Vulture’s plants—stepped out, heels clicking sharply.Two guards turned to stop her.She smiled.And slit their throats in a heartbeat.Bain and Vulture moved in seconds later, their team sweeping through the vault with suppressors and thermite. Security cameras