Semua Bab Bound by blood and lies: Bab 81 - Bab 90

For once, the house had felt like a home again. The air didn’t carry the same cold edge it used to. The halls weren’t thick with silence or tension anymore. There were still shadows, yes—there always would be—but the weight of them had begun to lift, just enough to let something like peace slip through the cracks. I caught myself smiling—genuinely smiling—as I sat behind my desk, sorting through the week’s coded shipments and inventory reports. Numbers and names, aliases and locations. Once, this work had been a refuge, a place to hide from things I couldn’t fix. But today, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was drowning in it. The weight in my chest had lessened. Hope, though fragile, had crept back in. Just last week, Eli had laughed. Not the tight, hollow sound he used to give us to keep us from worrying. Not the polite, wary chuckle that said, I’m trying, please don’t push. This one had been real—u

I wasn’t ready.Not for the headline. Not for the photo.Not for the man in the crisp black suit and devilish smirk staring back at me from the massive flatscreen TV mounted on the wall in the Rossi study.“Italian Billionaire Lorenzo Ricci Acquires Majority Stake in U.S. Conglomerate with a bold statement: ‘I Always Collect What’s Mine’”I blinked. “What the hell…”Luca’s glass shattered against the floor.Matteo stood frozen, mouth agape, eyes flicking between the screen and me.But I couldn’t move. My feet were glued to the ground. My throat dried.Ricci. In a three-piece suit that cost more than my entire FBI salary in a year. Standing in front of a podium in Manhattan. Cameras flashing. Smiling, like the devil himself had just taken heaven from under the angels.He knew exactly what he was doing.The company—Orion Industries—was one of Ross

Luca wasn’t sleeping.He was usually calm and a man of few words but lately his tongue has been moving non stop as he barks orders and curses in Italian.I could tell by the way he paced through the study like a caged animal, sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled, tie discarded. Matteo sat in an armchair with a glass of scotch in his hand, but his usual sarcasm and charisma was gone. The war with Ricci was rattling them in ways I’d never seen before.I didn’t think gods could spiral.But these two? They were coming undone, quietly… dangerously.It didn’t help that Ricci’s move was still circulating across media and markets. Our victory yesterday was only temporary—he would retaliate. And deep down, we knew it.I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “We need to figure out his next move.”“We can’t predict it,” Luca muttered. “He’s not playing by the usual rules. He's emotional. Irrational.”“He’s in love,” Ma

The man led us deeper into the cathedral—past arches so high they disappeared into shadow, down a corridor that was filled with low, humming music. The walls changed here—old stone giving way to polished black marble with silver streaks that shimmered under the flickering torchlight. It felt like walking into the heart of a living thing, ancient and waiting. It was eerie. We reached a vast chamber lit only by a chandelier shaped like a web of daggers, and there they stood—five figures arranged in a half circle like the points of a crown. The Circle. I didn’t know what I expected. Perhaps cloaked wraiths, faceless judges? But no. They were human. Real. Terrifyingly so. An older woman stood at the far left, her gray hair twisted into an elegant coil, her eyes sharp and knowing. She wore a deep blue gown with shoulder armor carved from onyx. Beside her, a man with skin like aged copper and eyes so

They fought, flesh on flesh, fists colliding with bone. Ricci drew a blade. Matteo grabbed it barehanded and twisted until metal bent. Ricci punched him in the jaw. Matteo didn’t even flinch.Then he bit him.Bit him.Ricci screamed as Matteo tore into his shoulder like a rabid dog, then drove his elbow into his gut so hard I heard ribs crack.Blood pooled around their feet.“Stop him!” one of Ricci’s guards yelled.But no one moved.Not the Circle.Not the dancers.Not even Luca.Because they wanted this.They wanted blood.Ricci was not just some crime lord wrapped in arrogance he moved like a trained assassin. His elbow struck against Matteo’s temple and the younger man reeled.They exchanged blows, Matteo’s knife slashing, Ricci fighting with another jagged blade drawn from his belt. They were teeth and fury and violence wrapped in designer suits.Blood s