Início / Mafia / Bound To The Devil's Heir / Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Todos os capítulos de Bound To The Devil's Heir : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

87 Capítulos

031

Damien’s POV The city was mine. At least, it was supposed to be. The skyline glared back at me from the penthouse window of the safehouse where I sat, neon lights bleeding into the dark streets below. Every corner, every alley, every whisper in the underworld was meant to answer to me. Yet Matthias’s name kept slipping through the cracks, like smoke that refused to be caught. I hated smoke. It meant fire was already burning somewhere I couldn’t see. The leather chair creaked as I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the scarred wooden table. Across from me, the first of the night’s informants squirmed. He was a small time fence, the kind of rat who would sell his own mother for a handful of cash. Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking the collar of his shirt. “You know why you’re here,” I said, voice flat, controlled. I didn’t need to raise it. Men like him were already half-broken before they walked into my presence. “I—I told Luca, I don’t know nothing, boss. I don’t—”

032

Serena's point of View The mansion was too quiet. It shouldn’t have been. There were guards patrolling outside the iron gates, servants gliding through the marble halls, and Damien’s shadow lingering in every corner of my mind. But despite the noise of footsteps and muted voices, the silence pressed down on me like a shroud. I had been back here long enough to know the difference this wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence of watchfulness. Of being caged. The gilded chandeliers, the sprawling staircases, the gold-framed paintings that seemed to stare down from the walls all of it reminded me of where I was. Damien’s world. His den. His fortress. It was supposed to protect me, yet lately I felt like the walls themselves were whispering warnings. I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders and glanced toward the tall windows in the corridor. A guard lingered by the fountain outside, hand on his holster, gaze sweeping every shadow as though expecting death to crawl ou

033

Damien's point of View Sleep refused to come.The mansion was cloaked in silence, yet my mind churned with noise. Shadows stretched long across my office walls, restless as I was. Every report on Matthias, every whisper from the streets, every failed lead burned like acid in my veins.But worse than all of it was the gnawing sense that Serena was holding something back from me.I had learned to read her silence the way I read enemy movements. She avoided my eyes too often. She lingered in corridors too long, as though the walls themselves whispered secrets to her. She folded in on herself, and when I reached for her, she flinched not from me, but from some phantom I couldn’t kill.It wasn’t fear of me. It was fear of something else. Someone else.And I was going to drag that truth into the light, whether she wanted me to or not.It happened after dinner, when the staff had cleared the dishes and the house had fallen quiet again. Serena lingered by the window in the drawing room, m

034

Matthias’s POV, Two Years AgoThe night smelled wrong.I stepped into the safehouse with the quiet authority of a man who needed no announcement. My brother in arms Serena’s father had insisted I stay away tonight, that he could handle the shipment on his own. But I’d learned long ago never to trust anyone completely, not even family. Especially not family.The moment the door closed behind me, a prickle crawled up my spine. The air was heavy, thick with smoke and liquor. My men our men lounged carelessly in the hall, bottles clinking, cards scattered across tables. Laughter echoed where there should have been silence, discipline.I frowned. Sloppy. Reckless. Dangerous.“Where is he?” I asked, my voice low but carrying through the noise like a blade through flesh.One of the soldiers scrambled to his feet. “Sir he’s in the hall, with the others.”I stalked forward, boots crunching over discarded glass. My eyes narrowed at the puddles of spilled alcohol shimmering under the weak ligh

035

Matthias’s POV, Two Years AgoThe fire still lived in his lungs. Every breath he dragged in was smoke, every exhale a broken cough tearing out of his chest.Matthias lay half-buried beneath a slab of scorched timber, his skin blistering, his clothes half-burned, and yet he was alive. Alive, when every sound around him screamed of death: collapsing beams, men shrieking until their voices cut off in the blaze, and the hiss of gasoline flames swallowing the night.He pressed a trembling hand against the ground, pushing himself onto his side. Pain ripped through his ribs maybe broken. Blood coated his tongue when he spat onto the ash.He should have died. He should have gone up with the rest of them. But death had always avoided him like an old lover.And as he clawed free of the wreckage, Matthias understood why.The safehouse was gone. A fortress built by her father, reduced to nothing but a carcass of steel and smoke. The air stank of burning oil and charred flesh.Matthias staggered

036

Matthias’s POVTwo Years AgoThe world thought him dead.That was his greatest weapon.Matthias crouched in the shadow of an abandoned rail yard, the stench of rust and oil seeping into his lungs. The fire that had nearly consumed him still lived in his body his right arm wrapped in filthy bandages, his ribs aching with every breath. But the pain no longer mattered. Pain was proof of survival.Days had passed since the inferno. The newspapers were clear:“Safehouse Destroyed in Mafia Inferno.”“Authorities Confirm No Survivors Bodies Recovered.”“Underworld Power Vacuum: Matthias Declared Dead.”Dead.The world had buried him without a coffin.And in that shallow grave, Matthias saw opportunity.The men who had once pledged their loyalty to him would scatter like rats, looking for new masters. His enemies would unclench, celebrating his fall. And Serena the girl who had set the blaze in motion she would sleep at night thinking her nightmare was over.A cruel smile bent his cracked

037

Matthias’s POV, Present Day – Two Years After the FireThe world had forgotten him.That suited Matthias perfectly.For two years, he had lived as a shadow, carving out a life in the cracks of the underworld. The fire that had nearly claimed him had burned away everything soft, leaving only steel and smoke.His body bore scars thick ridges across his ribs, an arm that still ached in cold weather but those marks were not weakness. They were reminders. They were armor.And now, finally, it was time to step back into the game.He walked through the bustling market square of Naples dressed as another man entirely. A tailored suit, hair slicked back silver, dark sunglasses hiding the predatory glint in his eyes. To the world, he was Alessio Romano, a wealthy businessman from southern Italy. No one would ever suspect that beneath the polished surface lived the ghost of Matthias Alaric the man declared dead in fire and ruin.The papers had buried him. His enemies had celebrated. Even his

038

Two years.Two long, bitter years since the fire that was supposed to consume me. Since my niece, sweet little Serena, decided she had the strength to strike at blood and cut down her own family. I had thought of myself as a teacher, a guide, the shadow to her father’s brutality. And yet, when the flames licked my skin and the ceiling came crashing down, I realized something I had been blind to: she was not a child anymore. She had teeth. She had fire.And she had chosen to use it against me.That was the night I became a ghost.The world whispered that I was dead, nothing more than ash buried beneath the ruins of a safehouse. Let them. A dead man can move far more freely than one hunted. My body healed scarred, yes, but scars are reminders of survival, proof that I cannot be erased so easily. My empire, too, adapted. Old contacts, corrupt officials, black market allies they all bent the knee once I resurfaced, veiled in secrecy and fury.But beneath all of that the rebuilding, th

039

Serena’s POVThe mansion was quieter than usual that morning. Too quiet. For once, the endless rhythm of Damien’s empire the footsteps of his men, the muffled voices in the corridors, the ringing of phones in distant offices felt stifled, smothered. I stood by the wide windows of the east wing, tracing patterns on the cold glass with my fingertip, staring at the gardens below where security guards moved like shadows.Damien had left early for a meeting. He hadn’t said where, and I hadn’t asked. These days, he seemed to live in fragments half of him with me, the other half consumed by Matthias and the war he swore was coming. I should have felt relieved to have space from him, but instead, unease wrapped itself around my chest like chains.Something was wrong.I felt it long before she appeared.The soft click of heels echoed down the marble corridor. Steady, deliberate. I turned before the door even opened, and there she was Emilia Alaric. Damien’s sister. His mirror in so many w

040

Serena’s POVThe words wouldn’t leave me.They clung to my skin like smoke, seared themselves into my memory until every breath felt poisoned by them.If anything happens to Damien or the Alaric empire, you’ll be the first to pay.I could still hear Emilia’s voice, sharp as broken glass, cold as the marble halls she haunted. She hadn’t yelled, hadn’t raised her hand, hadn’t needed to. The weight of her warning was enough to crush me all on its own.All morning, I replayed the conversation in my mind, searching for cracks in her intent, wondering if I had misread her words. But there had been no kindness in her eyes, no room for misinterpretation. It wasn’t just a warning. It was a promise.By the time Damien returned from his meeting, my hands were trembling, though I kept them hidden in the folds of my dress. He swept into the room like a storm barely contained, his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, his tie loosened. His presence always filled every corner, and yet today

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