SHADOW OF VOW'S のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Alessia VolkovThe smoke thickened.It coiled around my lungs like a snake, suffocating, biting, cruel. Each breath was a battle, each second stretching longer than the last. My eyes burned as the flames crept closer, dancing in a cruel rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart.Marcello…He was burning.Burning alive.His screams pierced through the roar of the fire, a haunting sound that etched itself into my soul. I’d never heard pain like that. Rage, betrayal, and utter madness tangled in those cries. For a moment, I forgot he’d been my stalker. My tormentor. He had just been a boy once—someone I’d cared about, someone who’d whispered promises in my ear and brushed his fingers down my spine as if I was everything.Now he was engulfed in flames, writhing like a devil caught in hellfire.I turned my head away, bile rising in my throat. It didn’t matter that he deserved it. No one should burn like that.The fire surged, a hot, pulsing wave of destruction, and panic finally seized

Nikolai Voplkov The days bled into each other with a maddening, colorless monotony. I had never felt this helpless, not even during the bloodiest days of my life. Two endless days had passed since I brought Alessia back to the manor—*my* manor—not the sterile corridors of a hospital where strangers could touch her. She was safest here, under my watch, under my roof. I sat beside her, hour after hour, watching her fragile frame lie motionless against the sheets. Machines beeped softly around her, keeping a cadence that was both a mockery and a comfort. My mind was a battlefield, a storm raging with guilt, rage, and something far more dangerous: fear.I wiped a damp cloth across her forehead, careful not to disturb the small bruises and cuts that marred her beautiful skin. Every mark on her body felt like a brand on my soul, a glaring testament to my failure."You weren't supposed to be touched," I murmured against the silence, my hand wrapping around her much smaller one.Her fingers

Alessia Volkov The world kept spinning. Relentless. Unforgiving.And me... I was pretending.Physically, I was fine — or so the doctors said. The bruises had faded. The superficial wounds had healed under the patient touch of time. From the outside, I was Alessia Moretti-Volkov, beautiful and radiant, the perfect wife of a powerful man.Inside, it was a different story.At night, I woke up gasping for air, certain that smoke was filling my lungs. I could still feel the burn of the rope against my wrists. I could still hear Marcello’s screams blending with the crackling flames.Even now, in the overwhelming luxury of the manor, I was never truly alone.The past clung to me like a second skin.And Nikolai... Nikolai wasn’t making it any easier.Since the day I woke up, he had become a constant shadow. Always there. Always close. Always ready to jump at the slightest sound I made.I knew he wanted to help. I knew he thought he was doing the right thing. But sometim

Nikolai Volkov If someone had told me years ago that I’d spend my Tuesday morning trying to convince a woman—my wife—to hold a gun without threatening to shoot me with it, I would’ve laughed.Now?I wasn’t laughing.Not when Alessia stood at the entrance of our underground training facility like I’d just asked her to drown a puppy.Her arms were crossed, brows drawn together, lips pressed into a line of pure rebellion. That particular expression—equal parts dramatic and unimpressed—was becoming her default look around me lately."Let me get this straight," she said slowly, voice dripping in honeyed sarcasm. "After our cute little bonding session where you taught me how to punch people, now you want me to hold a gun? Inside a literal mafia shooting range?"I nodded once. “Yes.”“Are you high?”“No.”“Are you sure? Because that sounds like the fever dream of a man deeply disconnected from reality.”I exhaled through my nose, keeping my patience on a tight leash.She took another step b

Alessia Volkov The moment I stepped out onto the terrace, barefoot, wrapped in a silk robe that clung to my curves like a second skin, I saw him.Nikolai.He was seated on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, a laptop perched on his lap, the screen casting a faint glow over his sharp features. The light breeze tousled his dark hair as if it belonged to him, as if even nature obeyed his silent command. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the powerful tendons of his forearms. His jaw was tight with focus, eyes locked on the screen.And I wanted to ruin that focus. Completely.Not because I needed attention. Not because I was feeling insecure. But because I was Alessia Moretti, and I never let a slight go unanswered. No matter how subtle.Sienna McCoy had touched what was mine.I knew Nikolai had dealt with her. I knew he’d said the words, drawn the line, made it clear she had no claim on him. But I also knew men like him. Power didn’t only live in action—it breathed in