Bound By Mafia Blood のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 141 - チャプター 150

One moment she was speaking and the next her voice was flat, eyes blank as she described fragments of code she remembered from De Marco’s experiments, and the next her body locked into violent convulsions, the seizure had come on all of a sudden. Her back arched off the mattress, a guttural sound tearing from her throat as her hands clawed the air. The room erupted in chaos as machines beeped and a glass of water fell, shattering across the floor.“Hold her, don’t restrain her too tightly!” Talana’s voice cut through the panic. She was at Aria’s side instantly, forcing a padded mouthpiece between her teeth to keep her from biting her tongue. Massimo moved forward, his strength steadying Aria’s flailing arms. Matteo hovered near the door, one hand on his gun as if the seizure itself were another enemy waiting to be put down.The convulsions lasted less than two minutes, but they felt eternal and when they finally stopped, Aria collapsed back onto the bed, drenched in sweat, lips trembl

The flash drive clicked into the laptop with an almost ceremonial finality. The room was dark except for the ghostly blue light of the screen. Talana stood beside Massimo, her arms crossed over her chest, every muscle wound tight, as if she could already feel the poison the drive carried.The video stuttered into life. Grainy, low-lit security footage from years ago. The familiar outline of Massimo’s nightclub, his empire in its infancy, glared back in distorted black and white.Pablo Fabrizio slouched into the frame, already drunk, already pathetic. His hands trembled as he slammed them on Massimo’s desk, begging.“Please, Massimo, just this once. You know I can’t pay them back. They’ll kill me. I’ll give you anything. I’ll give you Talana.”Talana’s breath snagged in her throat.Massimo leaned back in his chair in the footage, younger, colder. His jaw clenched, eyes like knives."You’re disgusting, Pablo. She’s not a chip on your gambling table. Get out before I put a bullet between

The storm over Reykjavik was a black maw, swollen clouds split open by veins of white lightning that lit the icy plain like the wrath of old gods. The helicopters cutting through that storm carried two kinds of blood: law and lawlessness.Interpol’s insignia glittered faintly on their fuselages, but the true teeth inside were not their agents, it was Isla with her fire-bright eyes and Aria strapped down with wires feeding into her skull, fighting her own seizures as if she were a living conduit between life and machine.Talana’s world smelled of smoke, blood, and gasoline. Calabria burned in her bones. Every heartbeat was war. Every breath was sharpened glass.Inside the ghe lab the neural server lab was buried in the volcanic rock, a concrete bunker guarded by men with De Marco’s ghost sigil stitched on their Kevlar. Isla led the breach like a woman who had already signed her name in blood. Two silenced pistols in her hands, she cut the first line of guar

The world outside the hospital had turned into something Talana barely recognized. Flashbulbs lit the pavement, burning brighter than the Mediterranean sun. Reporters shouted her name, microphones shoved forward like daggers. The air was electric with both adoration and venom.She stepped out slowly, black sunglasses hiding the burn scars still healing along her cheek. Her body ached with each movement, ribs strapped tight, shoulder bound, but she moved like steel anyway. A living symbol. A woman who had walked through fire and crawled out still breathing.Massimo’s hand hovered at her lower back, close enough to catch her if she faltered, but careful not to overshadow her presence. Lorenzo flanked her other side, his predator’s eyes sweeping the crowd for the slightest twitch, the smallest threat. Mariano and Sanchiano men formed a wall of muscle behind them.The press screamed questions:“Dona Fabrizio, are you afraid for your life?”“Do you

Two years later.The first rays of dawn cut across the Tangier skyline, gilding the fortified Sanchiano villa with a light so sharp it seemed to carve the world into clarity. Talana stood at the highest balcony, wind whipping her dark hair across her face. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, a living mirror of possibility and peril. Two years had passed since the chaos of Project Lazarus and the final battles that had rewritten the map of global crime and power. Yet here she was, unbroken, unbowed, a living testament to survival and control.She ran her fingers across the balcony’s cold iron railing, feeling the smooth burn of the paint beneath her palm. Her mind wandered briefly, not to revenge, not to war, but to what they had created. Empire was not just property, wealth, or influence, it was trust, loyalty, and a network strong enough to resist betrayal, and the Sanchiano-Morelli line was now intertwined like never before.Massimo approached sile