All Chapters of Bound By Mafia Blood: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

After weeks of planning, the trio team set off on their mission. Breaking Donatello. Mariano, Matteo and Lorenzo accepted the assignment for Morocco.Tangier, Morocco – 3:07 a.m.The coastal wind in Tangier stank of sea rot and diesel, carrying the sting of something older, gunpowder and dread.The black SUV pulled into the alley behind the villa, tires crunching over loose gravel. Mariano stepped out first, silencer already affixed to his pistol. Behind him, Matteo and Lorenzo moved as one, quiet, swift, calculating.The Moroccan informant had been precise. Donatello’s courier was passing through Tangier to deliver classified intel to remnants of De Marco’s syndicate, details on laundering accounts and their next transfer node in West Africa.It was supposed to be a clean grab. Quick, surgical. But clean wasn’t how their world worked anymore.Inside the villa, the operation turned to smoke and screaming in under sixty seconds.Mariano’s voice sliced through the comms: “Trap. Fall ba

Reggio Calabria, Italy – Four Days LaterThe Sanchiano estate slept beneath a bruised sky, caught between sea and storm, mourning and vengeance. The wind off the cliffs carried salt and stillness, but inside the old villa, silence had turned into something else entirely, waiting.Lorenzo lay unconscious in the private medical wing, his body still bearing the brutality of Morocco’s horrors. Stiff white bandages wrapped around his ribs like a corset of pain. His lip remained split, his face a roadmap of bruises and exhaustion. He looked both like a fallen warrior and a sleeping ghost.Talana stood beside him, unmoving, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She had barely changed since their return, her crimson coat still stained with blood at the cuff, her eyes red-rimmed but unbroken."He’s stable," Mariano said from the doorway, his voice rough with fatigue and dust. “The fever broke last night.”She nodded slightly, but her gaze remained locked on Lorenzo’s face. His hand had tw

They all arrived in Palermo, Sicily around midnight.The car rolled through Palermo like a funeral procession draped in shadows. Sleek, black, and unmarked, it moved beneath the glow of amber streetlamps and baroque balconies, past sleeping vendors and ancient churches that had forgotten how to pray. The city pulsed with something old and wicked, vengeance. Blood. Memory.Inside the vehicle, Talana sat silent, her gaze locked on the crumbling skyline. The port was just visible beyond the rooftops, cranes outlined like skeletons in the moonlight.Massimo sat beside her, sharp in a dark suit, the weight of leadership settled across his shoulders like a tailored curse.“We’re being watched,” he murmured, not looking her way.“Let them,” Talana said coolly. “They need to know the lioness has arrived.”The convoy split at a fork near the Teatro Massimo, Matteo and Mariano peeling off to secure the south tunnels. The primary safehouse, a restored villa once belonging to a noble family now l

Later that week was the Port Authority Summit The summit was held in the hollowed-out shell of an abandoned customs building at the edge of Palermo’s port, a space once used to weigh cargo and break smugglers, now transformed into a gilded lion’s den.Columns cracked by time loomed overhead. Strings of dim gold lights snaked across the rafters, casting long, uneasy shadows. Old marble tables were reassembled into a central council, surrounded by armed guards from every faction. Rust still stained the walls. The scent of salt and steel lingered in the air.Talana stood near the head of the table in a crimson floor-length gown slit at the thigh, her dark hair swept back in a crown braid, the curve of a pistol holstered elegantly beneath her belt. She was calm, poised, but behind her stillness, her body was a wire stretched tight.Beside her, Massimo wore his control like armor, dark suit, clean lines, and the cold weight of decades of command behind his eyes.Around the room sat the re

They arrived at the vatican, early hours of the following morning. The Feast of Saint Jude, which is rare ceremonial rite, was underwayThe Vatican was dressed in shadows and candlelight. Inside the walled city, pilgrims gathered for the obscure Saint Jude vigil, lining the outer basilica with flickering lanterns and whispered hymns. Cloaked in reverence and distraction, it was the perfect moment to breach the holy fortress unseen.Beneath the golden domes and marble saints, Talana moved like smoke. Her black cloak swept behind her, the hem grazing the marble as she passed under the guise of a relic handler from Milan. Her ID was forged. The microchip from her mother’s necklace rested in a lead-lined pocket, tucked against her ribcage like a secret waiting to be told.Mariano walked beside her dressed as a visiting theologian. His Latin was flawless. His gaze, sharp. Ahead of them, Massimo posed as security, while Lorenzo and Gianna disguised themselves as archivists trailing an “impo