All Chapters of Bound By Mafia Blood: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The aftermath of Tangier was scorched chaos. Smoke lingered like a vengeful spirit, curling above the ruined summit estate that was supposed to be neutral ground. The bodies of mercenaries, double agents, and security operatives littered the marbled floors and sand-dusted stairs. Blood stained the mosaics. The once-glamorous gathering had become a tomb.Talana sat at the edge of the rooftop, the Beretta still hot in her palm. Her ears rang from the gunfire that had ended only moments ago. Below, medics scrambled, treating survivors or wrapping the dead. The wind slapped her face, but she didn’t blink. Her gaze was locked on the helicopter that had disappeared into the golden haze, taking Aria.Massimo was alive. He’d taken a bullet to the ribs, but the vest had absorbed most of the impact. Still, Talana had thrown herself over him when all hell broke loose. The way she’d fired, it was ruthless, unhesitating and left a statement as loud as any declaration. She wasn’t a princess to be r

The drive back into Calabria felt like returning to the cradle of ghosts. The hills of Catanzaro rose in soft green folds, but the air carried the heaviness of storms. After the island, the blood, the fire, the chilling sound of Aria’s lullaby unlocking damnation in her own mind, everything seemed quieter, too quiet, like the land itself was holding its breath.Talana leaned against the tinted window of the armored car, one hand still bandaged from the fight. She wasn’t looking at the view; she was looking inward, replaying every scream Aria had made in that prison chamber, every tear that streaked the girl’s face when the code unlocked itself in her head.The blacklist. The damned blacklist.Now it lived not in De Marco’s control, but in their possession. A ledger of corruption spanning continents, names of politicians who had built their empires on the backs of trafficked souls. A document that could tilt nations. A weapon more dangerous than every bullet she and Massimo had fired.

The villa glowed with the soft hues of late afternoon, golden light spilling across the marble floors and tall windows of Catanzaro. The air outside was filled with the scent of lemon blossoms from the orchards that had long been Roberto Sanchiano’s pride, now left to Talana and Massimo as both inheritance and burden. Yet in that moment, for the first time in years, the air inside carried something warmer than war, revenge, or grief, it carried hope.Talana moved through the hall, her dress brushing against the old stone tiles, her hand lightly tracing the carved balustrade of the staircase. She paused at a family portrait, Roberto standing tall, his eyes sharp even in oil paint. She whispered under her breath, “You told me to salt the earth, Nonno, but tonight, we plant something new.”Down in the courtyard, Massimo waited. He was dressed in a dark suit, the cut precise, the elegance natural to him, but his eyes betrayed something else, a nervous anticipation he rarely allowed himsel

The cellar smelled of damp stone, oil, and something metallic. The air was cold enough that Isla’s skin prickled where her blouse had been torn in the scuffle. Rope bit into her wrists and ankles, rough hemp digging deeper each time she tried to shift. Her pulse thundered, not from the bonds, but from the knowledge of where she was—or rather, who was waiting for her. A single hanging bulb flickered above, swaying slightly with every vibration from the footsteps echoing beyond the iron door. She recognized this place, or the memory it conjured: shadowed warehouses, murmured deals, whispers of De Marco’s legacy. The men who had dragged her here hadn’t said a word, just shoved her into the chair and tied her down with a precision that spoke of training, not desperation. Professionals. Loyalists. Rats that had scurried back from the corners after their master’s death. Her jaw ached from the strike she’d taken during the ambush, but it wasn’t pain that unsettled her—it was familiarity.

The sea rolled against jagged rocks like a beast chained by the moon. Spray hung in the air, dampening the night with its salt breath. Far from Calabria, beyond maps that pirates once claimed as their domain, the hidden island stood, a crescent of volcanic stone and blackened sand, unreachable except by men who owed their lives to Massimo Morelli.It was here, in the ashes of exile and fire, that Talana and Massimo came to begin the bloodied chapter of their marriage. Not in Rome’s gilded halls or Milan’s manicured villas, but on a piece of earth the world had forgotten.The motorboat that carried them shuddered to a halt at the pier. Aria had seen them off, eyes sharp with soldier’s duty, but she did not follow. This was not a night for soldiers, nor for guards. It was a night for vows older than churches and empires.Massimo’s hand was warm around Talana’s as he helped her from the boat. She wore no bridal gown now. That had burned with the last estate, consumed by the same winds th