All Chapters of Twisted vows : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Alessia’s POV The tunnels smelled musty, like damp stone mixed with stale river water. Each step I took echoed loudly, almost like a secret that was too obvious to hide, and despite my efforts to be quiet, I could feel my chest heaving from the run. My hands were raw, scraped up from scrambling through the storm drain, but none of that really mattered. We’d made it out. Well, most of us had. I glanced back at Luca, who was limping behind me, clutching his ribs. Blood had soaked through his shirt, but he waved me off every time I tried to slow down. Marta was next to him, her face pale, one arm propping him up. “How far?” I whispered. “Two more tunnels, then we’ll hit the south bank,” Marta replied, her voice tense. The south bank. From there, we could blend into the smaller wards, disappear into the markets, or catch a ride on a trader’s boat. Freedom felt just within reach—almost touchable. But with each step, I found myself glancing back, half-expecting Nikolai’s shadow to s

Alessia’s POV The ledger sprawled on the table like a slumbering beast—its pages fanned out, edges darkened by water, and ink smudged where the caretaker’s blood had stained it. I half-expected it to move as if it were hiding something, but it just lay there, heavy and ominous, filled with names that could bring a city to its knees. Nikolai burst in like a whirlwind—grimy, limping, one sleeve torn, with a bandage wrapped around a cut on his forearm. He plopped down in the chair across from me without saying a word, his eyes looking raw but resolute. For a moment, we just stared at each other, two pieces of the same broken puzzle. “Are you alright?” I asked, feeling like my question didn’t even scratch the surface. He let out a short, broken laugh. “Just enough to be dangerous. Where’s the ledger?” I nudged it toward him. “Right here. We got it out. Lost the caretaker, though. He... died holding it.” Mentioning his name felt like announcing a death at a party. I could still feel

The silence in the hall felt thick, almost suffocating, as if the very air was reluctant to move. My heart pounded in my chest, racing as if trying to escape, thumping against my ribs. I stood there, frozen, my gaze fixed on the door Nikolai had just shut behind him. He hadn’t once glanced back. His shoulders were tense, his steps deliberate, but I had seen the turmoil in his eyes before he left—the very storm I had helped create. I sank into the armchair closest to me, my body trembling with fatigue. The argument we’d had still tasted bitter in my mouth, like ash. My throat hurt from the harsh words I’d thrown at him, all born from anger and fear, each word carrying its own weight. I hadn’t meant them, not really, but in that heated moment, I had pressed every sharp edge I could find into his heart. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind: You always let pride guide you, Alessia. You think strength means standing your ground, but sometimes true strength comes from knowing when to b

That night, sleep felt like a distant memory. I tossed and turned in the grand yet stifling bed, staring up at the intricately designed ceiling while thoughts gnawed at my mind. Nikolai’s words kept echoing in my head—I wasn’t her executioner. The certainty in his voice, the hint of pain he tried to hide. If he didn’t kill Isabella, then who did? The question consumed me until dawn crept through the curtains. I dragged myself out of bed, determined not to show how much his words had shaken me. I needed answers, and there was only one person I could start with. Father. I found him in his study, enveloped in cigar smoke and surrounded by polished mahogany, as if the room itself was protecting him from guilt. When I walked in, his sharp gaze met mine, and for once, there was no warmth, no fatherly tenderness. Just a cold, assessing look. “You’ve been spending too much time with Nikolai,” he stated before I could even respond. His tone was calm, but I sensed an underlying warning.

The drive back to the estate felt stifling. Outside, the darkness pressed against the windows, but it was nothing compared to the chaos brewing inside me. My father's spiteful words echoed in my mind, filled with warnings and disdain. Hearing those men talk about Isabella—so casually, as if her life was merely collateral damage—made my stomach turn. I glanced over at Nikolai. He was driving with one hand, his face as hard as stone, eyes locked on the road. He hadn't said a word since we left the villa, and the silence was unbearable. “You knew,” I said quietly. “You knew they’d talk about her tonight.” His hold on the steering wheel tightened. “I had my suspicions. Guys like them don’t keep the dead buried for long. Not when it suits their power to bring up old ghosts.” “And you let me walk into that without a heads-up?” Finally, he met my gaze, his eyes sharp and uncompromising. “If I had warned you, you wouldn’t have gone. You needed to see it, Alessia. You needed to hear the