Semua Bab The mafia’s captive : Bab 71 - Bab 80

The war room inside Vulture’s domain smelled like espresso, gun oil, and something suspiciously like baby powder.Bain was seated near the wall of monitors, shirt sleeves rolled up, his healing hand still bandaged from the last operation. He rocked the baby’s carrier gently with one foot while Viktor connected the hard drive Spider had sent through a scrambled channel.The moment the files opened, Vulture stormed in like a drunk hurricane in silk.“I swear to all the gods—real, fake, or dead—I just saw two of my guards trying to sneak out with my last bottle of Scotch. And one of them was wearing lip balm. Cherry. What in all the flammable hells is going on with people these days?”He stopped mid-rant when he spotted Bain and the blinking screen.“What’s this?” Vulture sniffed, eyes narrowing. “If that’s another compilation of Luka’s ‘cool walk’ clips, I’m throwing this baby at the wall.”“It’s the intel,” Viktor said, ignoring the threat to the baby. “Spider, Ryder, and Luka hit pay

Valeria stood by the frost-laced window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The news of Cassie’s rescue had reached her, and the walls of her meticulously constructed world began to tremble. The Carpathian facility, once deemed impenetrable, had fallen.Her father, the King, entered the room, his presence as commanding as ever. “The facility is compromised. Cassie is gone,” he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.Valeria turned to face him, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. “I underestimated them,” she admitted.The King nodded slowly. “And Elias? Your son?”Valeria’s heart clenched. Elias, her eight-year-old son, whom she had left behind in pursuit of power. The boy’s father, a loyal operative, had perished on a covert mission to Petrov, a casualty of Valeria’s ambition.“I need to bring him back,” she whispered.The King raised an eyebrow. “You abandoned him. Why the sudden change of heart?”“Because he’s all I have left,” she replied, her voice trembling.De

Kain kicked the door open with a limp and swagger that didn’t quite match the deep scrape across his face. The Jackal followed, limping harder, his arm bandaged and dried blood still on his sleeve.Valeria stood near the window, swirling a glass of red wine like it could calm the rage building in her chest.They didn’t even make it halfway into the room before she spoke.“You two look like chewed-up sausage and boiled disappointment.”Kain grunted. “It was a fortress.”“A fortress,” the Jackal added, defensive. “We didn’t know he had cameras inside the fucking walls. Who does that?”“Vulture,” Valeria hissed, turning toward them, her eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. “He does that. Because he’s insane and brilliant and paranoid. The worst kind of bastard.”She paced the floor like a storm dressed in black silk.“Did you at least see the boy?” she demanded.“No,” Kain said. “But we saw the baby.”“What baby?”“Her baby,” the Jackal said. “Cassie and Bain’s. Pink cheeks. Big lungs

They came in the dark.Five shadows slithered through the undergrowth just past the ancient stone ridge north of the Pyrenees stronghold—dressed in black, boots muffled, their accents foreign even in a whisper.One of them pointed toward a jagged outcrop where the trees thinned. “That’s it. The fortress is just over the ridge. No guards.”“No guards,” the second muttered. “Feels like a trap.”But they pressed forward anyway—silent, rehearsed. Trained killers sent by Valeria herself. She didn’t care if they survived. She only wanted information.They never made it to the ridge.In the trees behind them, a whisper passed. Then a click. A tiny blade sliced through air—one fell before the others even realized.Then another. And another.The fourth man was alive long enough to hear a voice—low, cold, amused.“Should’ve knocked first.”And then silence again.At the Fortress, the Next Morning…Vulture poured himself a cup of coffee and tossed a bloodied glove onto the table in the war room.

The war room inside First Choice’s Pyrenees stronghold was dim, atmospheric, and alive with quiet tension. Surveillance monitors cast a bluish glow across the dark wooden panels, and a large tactical table sat pulsing at the center, marked with glowing zones and encrypted flags.Bain stood at one side of the table, arms folded, eyes sharp. Across from him was Liang, the Triad’s commander—slender, severe, immaculately dressed in charcoal silk with a dragon pin glinting at his collar. His demeanor was unreadable, but his presence was felt like an unsheathed blade.“Five of my best men are already positioned along the outer ridge,” Liang said calmly. “Two are specialists. You will not see them unless they want you to.”“I like ghosts,” Vulture muttered from his lounge chair beside the fireplace, Cassian nestled on his chest like a tiny prince. “So long as they don’t try to touch my bourbon.”Liang ignored him. “Another team will establish blind zones in your satellite perimeter, so nothi