Semua Bab Vows of sin: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The chamber was heavy with silence, the kind that presses against the lungs and makes breathing a conscious effort. Isabella sat at the long, polished mahogany table, the surface reflecting the dim flicker of candlelight like a mirror to her tangled thoughts. Outside, the wind whispered secrets through the stone corridors, but inside, the air was thick with the weight of a secret no one had dared voice until now.Elena was alive.The words echoed relentlessly through Isabella’s mind, refusing to settle. For years, she had believed the stories—the whispered tales of her sister’s tragic death, the betrayal that had shattered their family, the finality of loss that had shaped her own path. But now, sitting in this chamber where power was measured in silence and steel, Isabella faced the impossible truth.Elena had survived.And she had been hidden all this time.Isabella’s fingers curled into fists on the tabletop. She felt the grain of the wood bite into her skin—sharp, real, grounding.

Alessia’s POVAlessia’s fingers trembled as she stared at the screen of her phone. The message glowed coldly in the dim light of her chamber, the image of the woman—her sister—etched into her mind like a scar.She’s alive.The words pulsed through her veins, each beat echoing with disbelief and a fragile hope she didn’t know she still harbored.Her breath hitched, chest tightening as the flood of memories crashed in — memories of a sister she thought lost forever, swallowed by betrayal and fire.Her mother’s warnings echoed in her ears: Trust no one. Protect your blood. The past is never truly dead.Alessia swallowed hard, the weight of the crown suddenly unbearable. The throne she fought so hard to claim felt fragile beneath her hands.But this was no time for weakness.She needed answers.Who had sent the message? Was it a friend? Or a trap?Her mind raced through every alliance, every enemy.The palace suddenly felt suffocating, every shadow a potential threat.She pressed her palm

Darkness clawed at the edges of my mind, thick and suffocating. Every breath felt like shards of glass slicing through my lungs, every heartbeat a distant echo fading fast. But even as the pain swallowed me whole, a stubborn ember refused to die.I forced my eyes open, blinking against the haze. Elena’s face hovered above me, pale and frantic, tears shimmering in her eyes.“Alessia! Stay with me!” she pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation.I tried to speak, but my throat was raw, every word a battle. My fingers twitched weakly, searching for hers, finding the warmth that tethered me to this world.“Help is coming,” she whispered, her hand trembling in mine. “I called for the healers. Just hold on.”I wanted to believe her, to cling to the hope she offered, but doubt clawed in. What if the poison was already winning? What if this was the end of everything I fought for?The room spun slowly, shadows twisting into haunting shapes. Then, a faint light flickered at the door.“Elena!

Alessia’s POVThe Vatican bells tolled in the distance, their solemn echo threading through the cold morning mist. Alessia stood at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the cobbled streets of Rome that twisted like arteries through a sleeping beast. The city looked peaceful—but peace was always the most deceptive mask.Inside, the air was heavy with tension. Matteo and Leo had returned from the reconnaissance mission in the south—silent, bloodied, and grim. No words had been exchanged yet, only glances. That alone set her on edge.Dante stood across the room, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw tight. He hadn’t looked at her since the call began. That wasn’t like him. Not now.Not after everything.She ran her fingers along the iron railing, the cold biting into her skin like the truth she didn’t want to face.Someone had betrayed them.Again.And this time, it wasn’t a distant threat. It was someone close.“Elena’s trail went dark near San Gimignano,” Leo said, stepping into the balcon

Alessia’s POVThe flames roared behind her, eating away at the edges of the legacy she never wanted to inherit.Alessia stood over the wreckage, smoke curling around her like a veil of mourning. Her lungs burned, her dress clung to her blood-slick skin, and yet—she was still standing. Bruised. Bleeding. Alive.Lucian lay quiet beneath the shattered stained glass, the boy’s face pale and serene as if untouched by the chaos. She had wrapped him in a linen shroud pulled from her father’s old closet. It felt cruel to dress him in the silk of the man who had planned to weaponize him.“I failed you,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I failed all of us.”Behind her, the fire crackled like applause from the dead. And then—footsteps.Alessia spun, gun raised, but it was Mateo—his suit torn, a long gash on his cheek, and a Glock in his hand.“Jesus,” he muttered as his eyes scanned the room. “I heard the blasts. Isabella made it to the tunnels. She’s safe.”Alessia’s throa