Semua Bab Kingdom of Ash and Blood : Bab 61 - Bab 70

The city of Palermo burned with a deceptive calm, the morning sunlight filtering through the haze of smoke and dust. Amara stood atop the villa’s terrace, eyes scanning the horizon. Below, the city moved with oblivious energy, unaware of the war waged in shadows and alleys, of the blood and fire that had marked the nights before. Beside her, Luca’s presence was both grounding and electrifying. His gaze swept over the city, calculating, cautious, protective. “They’ll regroup,” he murmured, voice low, deliberate. “The remnants of the faction won’t stay quiet for long.” Amara’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll be ready. Every alley, every shadow, every whisper of their movements will be accounted for. They underestimated us before. They won’t again.” Luca’s hand brushed hers, a silent affirmation, a tether between them. “And when they come, they’ll face the full force of the Varelas. No mercy. No hesitation.” She nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest, heavy yet empowe

The moon hung low over Palermo, a pale guardian watching over a city that never slept. Its light spilled across cobblestone streets, flickering against the shadows of crumbling buildings, casting long, jagged silhouettes that seemed to whisper secrets of blood, fire, and betrayal. Amara Varela stood atop the terrace of the Varela estate, the wind tugging at her dark hair, her gaze locked on the city below. Every inch of her body was alive, alert—because in Palermo, danger never slept, and the night was always hungry.Luca emerged silently behind her, the soft leather of his shoes barely brushing the terrace floor. Even in the dark, he exuded dominance, every movement precise, calculated, and predatory. His eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and unyielding. “They’re moving,” he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of authority and something far more intimate. “The factions we thought destroyed… they’ve regrouped. And they’ve learned from their mistakes.”Amara didn’t flinch

The dawn over Palermo was a muted haze, the sun reluctant to pierce the thick, lingering smoke of the previous night’s chaos. Amara Varela stood on the balcony of her private quarters, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, though the heat did little to soothe the fire coursing through her veins. The streets below were quiet, but silence in Palermo was never peace—it was the calm before the storm.Luca appeared beside her, sliding into the familiar rhythm of proximity without a word. His presence was a shield, a weapon, and a temptation all at once. Even in the soft morning light, his dark eyes burned with intensity, tracking the city as though every shadow concealed a threat—or a secret waiting to be unraveled.“They’re not done,” he murmured, voice low, edged with the raw authority that had claimed every corner of Palermo and her heart alike. “They’re regrouping. Stronger. Smarter. Hungry.”Amara didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, cold and calculating. “Then we’ll

The air over Granada was heavy with tension, thick like the smoke of burning ruins. Amara Varela stood in the private security room of their safe house, watching screens that displayed feeds from every corner of the city. Each camera, each shadowed alley, carried potential threats—some visible, others lurking just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Luca Nero leaned over her shoulder, dark eyes scanning the monitors with a predator’s precision. “They’re moving faster than we expected,” he murmured, voice low and deadly. “They’ve regrouped, and they’re not just after the city—they’re after you. Personally.” Amara’s jaw tightened, her hand brushing the edge of the desk almost absentmindedly, though her mind was a whirlwind of strategy and anticipation. “Let them come,” she said, voice calm but laced with fire. “We’ve been waiting for this moment far longer than they realize.” Luca’s fingers brushed hers, a fleeting, incendiary touch. “Waiting is one thing,” he sai

Granada’s streets were eerily silent in the aftermath of the night’s violent upheaval. Smoke still curled from a few burned-out hideouts, a reminder that Amara and Luca’s presence was not merely a whisper of fear—it was a roaring storm. Yet, for Amara, silence was never safe. Danger lingered like a shadow, waiting to strike when vigilance faltered. She stood at the edge of the rooftop terrace, the city spread beneath her like a labyrinth of light and shadow. Luca appeared behind her, quiet as always, his presence magnetic and protective. He placed a hand at the small of her back, anchoring her. “They’re regrouping,” he said softly, his dark eyes scanning the horizon. “We’ve disrupted them, but they’re not done. Not yet.” Amara’s gaze remained fixed on the streets below, calculating, analyzing. “Then we make them regret it,” she murmured. Her voice carried the weight of command, the unyielding steel that had become her trademark. “We strike before they even think to retaliate.” Insi