Todos los capítulos de Blood Roses And Bullet Vows: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Amara’s POVI didn’t sleep that night.The cut on my palm had dried into a thin, ugly line, but the ache didn’t stop there. It spread through my chest like rot, thick and impossible to escape from. Matteo’s face wouldn’t leave my head—the way his eyes hardened, how his voice cracked when he said goodbye.It played on repeat. Every blink, every breath, it was there.“You don’t understand.”“Don’t.”“I trusted you.”“I’m done with you.”I could still hear it.I sat alone on the cold floor of the safehouse, the silence so loud it nearly screamed. Outside the window, dawn hadn’t even tried to break yet. Just black sky and heavier shadows.He didn’t even let me explain.But maybe he didn’t need to.I had cut myself open for Matteo—literally—and he still walked away like none of it mattered. Maybe to him, it didn’t.I wanted to scream.I wanted to smash something.But more than anythin

The second envelope came at dawn. No knock. No footsteps. Just a soft thud, like a breath exhaled through paper, as it landed on the floor of Matteo's room. I didn’t notice it at first. I was dozing off, curled up in the chair, my fingers still loosely holding Matteo's hand. But the sound pulled me out of the fog. There it was. Another letter. Same yellowing parchment. Same shaky ink. But this time, it was addressed to Matteo. I didn’t touch it. Not right away. Something about it felt wrong. Like it breathed. Like it watched. I stared at it as the sun cracked through the slats in the window, slicing light across the tile floor. My heart hammered in slow, heavy thuds. I didn’t know if I was more afraid of what was inside it or the fact that it had gotten in at all. No one had come through that door. No one. And still, it sat there. I finally reached f

I had barely stepped into the damp, echoing silence of the abandoned warehouse when the weight of what was about to happen hit me. My breath caught, chest tight with something I couldn’t name. The smell of iron and old leather lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of gunpowder that had almost become synonymous with my life.Matteo Monteverde stood just a few steps ahead, his posture tense but resolute. His eyes were trained on the dark figure ahead of us, waiting. Watching. Calculating.Rafael Aragon.We had tracked him here. This was it. The moment we had prepared for. The moment Matteo had sworn would end with blood on his hands. Rafael had pushed too far this time. He had killed too many of us. Torn families apart, burned lives to the ground. There was no turning back now.But as I watched Matteo take a slow step forward, I saw something in his eyes. A hesitation. A flicker of something I hadn’t expected.“I thought this wou

The silence was deafening. The kind that doesn’t just settle into your ears—it crawls into your bones. For the first time in weeks, no one spoke. No one dared to. We just stared at each other, faces half-lit by the low hanging bulbs of the safehouse, the weight of Matteo’s decision heavy in the air. He had snapped. Not loudly. Not with guns or fury. He broke quietly. Like glass left too long in a fire, beautiful until it just… cracked. “I’m done holding back,” Matteo finally said. I looked up from the blueprints spread across the table. “What are you saying?” He didn’t answer right away. He just walked over, placed Rafael’s video message in the center of the table, and hit play again. His brother’s muffled cries filled the room. Everyone flinched. “This—” Matteo pointed at the screen, “—this is the line. The last f*cking line.” No one argued. Not eve

The sky wasn’t just burning—it was screaming. Flames licked the skyline as smoke spiraled upward like curses cast in ash. Buildings groaned under the weight of war. Sirens wailed far away, too far, like they knew this fight wasn’t theirs to stop. Matteo gripped my hand as we darted through shattered glass and fallen walls, bullets rattling like hail on concrete. We weren’t running from something. We were charging straight into it. "Go low!" he shouted, pulling me behind a flipped SUV. I dropped to the ground just in time to feel a bullet split the air above my head. The scent of oil and blood clung to the dirt, thick and choking. "They hit the southern line first," Emil's voice crackled through Matteo's comm. "Rafael's forces are splitting, but Lazaro's are on the move. It's chaos." "Good," Matteo replied coldly. "Let them burn each other. We'll clean the rest." We moved like shadows through the wreckage. Matteo took lead, always just ahead, always checking my back. He didn’t s