Semua Bab NIRVANA:THE MAFIA'S WILD SIN : Bab 51 - Bab 60

The rain hadn’t stopped.It spilled like needles from the black clouds above as the long, sleek car pulled in front of the crimson-lit entrance of the Astoria Hotel. Tires hissed against the wet concrete, steam rising in tendrils as the engine idled briefly. The back door opened, and out stepped a figure wrapped in elegance and death.She wore black from head to toe…long trench coat with fur trim brushing against her thighs, stiletto boots clicking against the marble tiles. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed her features, but the bold line of her scarlet lipstick sliced through the veil of anonymity. Not a drop of rain touched her, though it bent and danced around her like the world knew better than to offend her presence.The doorman opened the door with shaky fingers, not daring a word. Her perfume drifted past him like smoke and sin. She stepped into the lobby, unmoved by the warmth of the chandeliers or the way every guest turned to glance at her. The heels announced her like gunshots on

The room was dim, sterile, silent. Machines hummed, monitors beeped, and Nirvana Castillo lay lifeless beneath sterile white sheets, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest the only proof she was still fighting.The door creaked.It wasn’t a doctor.Wasn’t a nurse.Wasn’t family.Siara Sandoval stepped into the room with heels clicking softly against the tiled floor, her manicured fingers clutched around a designer purse, her lips curled in disgust. She wore blood-red, like she was attending a gala instead of creeping into the hospital room of the girl she tried to destroy.She leaned over Nirvana’s bed, tilting her head with an expression twisted between amusement and bitterness.“Well, look at you. Pale. Pitiful. Pathetic,” she whispered, her voice sugary venom. “So this is the girl that had everyone on their knees… even him.”Siara sat at the edge of the bed, crossing her legs delicately.“RAyNe hasn’t eaten in three days. Barely sleeps. He looks like a man who’s lost his fucking s

"You dare compare me to Jolene again and I swear, Darius, I'll do more than just speak in riddles."The words slipped through Jezara’s ruby-painted lips with venom so subtle it chilled the sun-drenched room in the Voltaire estate. She stood by the window in all black…satin gloves, a fur stole draped over her shoulder, and that damn wide-brimmed hat that cast her eyes in shadow like the villain she refused to admit she was. But Darius saw her. He always had.“Careful,” Darius warned coldly, adjusting the cufflinks of his pristine suit. “You’re not on a stage.”Jezara scoffed, dragging one heel against the white marble. “You always had a flair for dramatics, didn’t you? Like your beloved sister.”He flinched at the name…Jolene. The sister she’d murdered slowly, piece by piece, with jealousy sharp enough to gut a heart.“I don’t have time for riddles,” he said. “What do you want, Jezara?”She turned, the corner of her lip curled. “Castillo Holdings.”Darius blinked. “Excuse me?”“You hea

"Something's wrong," RAyNe muttered as he stepped through the rusted side doors of the warehouse.The air was eerie still. The usual stench of oil and metal clung to his skin, but something else hung in the atmosphere…an unfamiliar tension. The entire building was dimly lit, only the overhead bulbs flickering like the heartbeat of something about to implode.Lucian walked behind him, sharp-eyed and silent. Gianni waited at the entrance, hand resting near his concealed weapon.They were supposed to finalize a shipment…he 800-million-dollar arms deal Viktor had been organizing for months. But now, with each echoing footstep, RAyNe's instincts screamed louder."Where the fuck is everyone?" Lucian asked in a low voice."Too quiet," RAyNe replied. His green eyes scanned the shadows, sharp and calculating.Footsteps. Slow, confident, deliberate.Viktor stepped out from behind a shipping container, suit crisp, expression smug. A hint of sweat lined his hairline, betraying the calm he was try

"Someone's here," Gianni muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he pressed himself against the cold stone wall of the estate. The darkness around him was a cloak, but the security here was no joke. One wrong move, and he’d be a corpse.The sprawling Voltaire estate loomed around him, shadowed by towering trees and guarded by men who didn’t look like they smiled often. Gianni had slipped past the perimeter with the stealth of a phantom, his focus unyielding.Nirvana had to be dead. Rayne believed it. Everyone believed it. But something gnawed at him…a nagging suspicion. Then came the photograph..the one with the stretcher, the medics, the airstrip. His instincts told him there was more to the story.He’d followed the trail here. Geneva. Darius Voltaire’s estate.The greenhouse loomed ahead, its glass panels misted with condensation, lush greenery shadowed within. Gianni scanned the area, then slipped inside, his boots silent against the tiled floor. Tropical plants rose around him, ca