Semua Bab Torn by Obsession : Bab 131 - Bab 140

The air inside the villa was still, unnervingly still—like the pause between thunder and lightning.Sophia’s grip tightened on her gun, her finger near the trigger as Valeria Sanz turned to face them fully. Her red wine swirled lazily in her glass, utterly unfazed by their presence or the weapons trained on her.Rafael stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “No more games, Valeria. This ends now.”A slow smile curved Valeria’s lips. “But darling, we’ve barely begun. I’ve waited so long for this reunion. You and Sophia, standing on the precipice of everything your fathers built—and tried to destroy.”“You destroyed my father,” Sophia snapped, the words cutting from her throat like glass. “You had him killed.”Valeria didn’t deny it. Instead, she offered a theatrical shrug. “He was a threat to the balance. He wanted out, and out isn’t an option in this world.”Sophia took a step closer. “You call that balance? You’ve burned cities for power. You’ve sacrificed anyone who stood in

The underground chamber was colder than Sophia expected. The stone walls were slick with moisture, ancient symbols etched into their surface glowing faintly under torchlight. Rafael stood beside her, silent, alert, a predator in a well-tailored suit. Around them, high-ranking members of rival syndicates circled like vultures—curious, skeptical, waiting for a misstep.They’d come not to mourn Valeria, but to claim her power. Instead, they found Sophia Giordano standing in her place.“She has no claim!” growled Niccolo Vetra, a brutal arms dealer with influence across southern Europe. “Valeria’s bloodline ends with her. This girl is a puppet.”Rafael didn’t flinch, but his fingers twitched toward the gun holstered at his side.Sophia raised her chin, stepping forward. “You’re right about one thing—Valeria’s bloodline does end with her. But the power she stole? The network she poisoned? That’s mine now. Not because I inherited it, but because I earned it.”Another man laughed—a tall, sil

Florence was quiet, too quiet for Rafael’s liking.Back in his penthouse, tension simmered beneath the surface like the low hum of a bomb waiting to detonate. Sophia sat at the desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she decrypted the files from Cesare’s flash drive. Her brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted in a mix of curiosity and unease.Rafael stood by the window, staring out at the rain-drenched city. He didn’t like ghosts. And Seraphine—whoever she was—felt like one of the most dangerous kind.“It’s military-grade encryption,” Sophia said. “But I’m in. Just give me a second…”The screen flickered.Images poured onto the monitor—grainy surveillance photos, classified government memos, records that had been scrubbed from every major intelligence network.One name kept surfacing: Seraphine Volkov.Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “Volkov? As in the Bratva?”Sophia nodded, scrolling faster. “More than Bratva. She’s a ghost. Born in St. Petersburg, raised by a black-ma

The Serbian mountains loomed like sleeping giants, their jagged peaks carved into shadows by the waning moon. Snow fell in soft silence, blanketing the path in white, but beneath the surface lay something ancient, something malignant.Blacksite 47.Rafael stood at the edge of the cliff, dressed in black combat gear. The bitter cold bit at his skin, but his body was too consumed by adrenaline to care. Beside him, Sophia adjusted her Kevlar jacket, her breath visible in the frozen air. Behind them, Luca, Natalia, and two trusted operatives formed a tight unit. This was no ordinary mission.This was an exorcism.“This place was never on any map,” Luca murmured, scanning the sheer drop before them. “How the hell did you even find it again?”“I never forgot,” Rafael said simply.Sophia looked at him, her expression tight. “This is where they kept you, isn’t it?”Rafael nodded once.Where they trained him.Where they broke him.Where Seraphine was born.A metal hatch buried in the snow led

The invitation was etched in gold. Elegant. Untraceable. And dangerous.It arrived tucked inside an unmarked envelope delivered to the estate just before dawn. A single embossed card with nothing but a name, a location, and a date:Marcellus Vendôme. Château Noir. Midnight.Masquerade Required.Sophia stared at it, heart beating faster. “This has to be bait.”Rafael stood beside her, dressed in black slacks and a half-buttoned shirt, fresh from his morning workout. “It is. But it’s also a door.”“Who the hell is Marcellus Vendôme?”“An art dealer on paper. But he’s more than that.” Rafael moved toward the fireplace, pulling out a leather file from the secret wall safe. “Vendôme is one of the council’s oldest players. He was Seraphine’s handler during the rise of Project Thorne.”Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Why invite us now?”“Because he knows we survived. He wants to see what’s left of us.”Rafael handed her a photo: a sharp-featured man with silver-streaked black hair, a face that be