Todos os capítulos de Shadows of the Vow: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

Antonioni’s POV The cell door closed with a sound that did not echo.That was what unsettled me.In Fort San Vittorio Detention Complex, echoes were constant…metal against metal, boots against concrete, the low hum of surveillance breathing through the walls. But this time, when they returned me from court, the sound ended. As though the world had decided I was not worth the reverberation.I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my wrists still warm from the cuffs, my shoulders carrying the weight of eyes that were no longer on me. Courtrooms were loud with judgment, even in silence. Cells were honest. They made no promises.I sat.And then, inevitably, I thought of her.Annabelle.Not as she had been led into the courtroom. Not as the composed woman who sat like a force of order in chaos. But as she had looked the last second, our eyes held steady, unafraid, and present.That look st

Annabelle’s POVThe sound of gunfire didn’t frighten me. At least not anymore.That was the first thing I noticed.It echoed loudly across the open field, sharp, controlled, consistent, and instead of flinching, something inside me aligned. Like a memory waking up. Like my body already knew what to do before my mind tried to interfere.I adjusted my standing again, grounding my feet, loosening my shoulders, correcting myself the way Bukky had taught me to, without panic, without apology. Slowly, Bukky walked around me in a circle, hands behind his back, watching not just my grip but my breathing, my posture, and my resolve.“Breathe first,” he said calmly. “The gun doesn’t move unless you tell it to.”I inhaled. Deep. Measured.I let the world narrow to the target, to the quiet space between my heartbeat and my intention, and then… I fired.It hit the targeted point.For a second, I just stood there, stunned by myself.Then Camille clapped loudly beside us, child-like joy spilling ou

Aselle’s POV ‎‎The corridor smelled of disinfectant and cold metal. Keys rattled softly, and I could hear the warden’s footsteps echoing as he prepared for my visit. My chest felt tight, not with fear, but with anticipation I couldn’t hide. Every step, every sound, was increasing with time, and yet I reminded myself: I was ready. I had trained for presence, for awareness, for composure.‎‎A knock at the cell door made me straighten immediately. My hands rested lightly on the handles of the bags I carried—food, supplies, a small piece of home I could offer him even here.‎‎“Visit scheduled. Annabelle Gracia,” the guard said.‎‎My pulse quickened just slightly. I exhaled, steadying myself. This was him. Antonioni. My anchor. My storm and my calm.‎‎The lock clicked and the gate swung open. And I stepped inside. The air in there was cooler than the air outside, but none of it mattered. All I could see was him.‎‎“Antonioni,” I said softly, setting the bags down carefully. I offer

‎Lorenzo’s POV  I watched her adjust herself on the bed, hips shifting just slightly, her perfume mingling with the heavy scent of the room.  Marta. Always Marta. A woman Antonioni banged for ten years. Every time I banged her, it was like a small betrayal against myself, against everything I was supposed to be holding together, but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t care to stop. Not yet. Marta is the only woman I'm having an affair with at the moment, not because women were scarce, but because women feared me. Most of them think I killed my former woman, Nina, and used her for money rituals or whatever the hell might be going on in their damn heads. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, brushing her hair back, eyes sharp, almost calculating. I let out a slow exhale, half pleasure, half exhaustion. “I was thinking,” I said car

Antonioni’s POVThe courtroom was alive, thick with tension. Not just the formal kind, you know that kind that required polite nods and careful words, that's not it. The tension was the kind that clung to the air like the whirlwind before an actual tempest. Every breath mattered, every glance could betray intent, every shuffle of papers hinted at strategy.I took my seat, calm, observing, while the energy in the room pulsed like a living thing. My hands rested lightly on the table. My eyes scanned faces. Mr. Kemal Daraç, Emir Yücel, Luca Malanké, Micah Stòròpez, Dr. Weiss, Señor Cruz, Matteo, Alberto, Mandolos, and Danky—the heads of my security. Their presence alone was a reassurance. And then my eyes quickly scanned my right hands, Bukky, Milo, Diego, Lorenzo Di Ricco… I froze slightly when I noticed him. Lorenzo. The bloody rival, my hater, the one I never wanted to confront this close in a formal setting. What's Loren doing here?He hadn’t been announced. No one had whispered.