Twisted vows のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 141 - チャプター 150

The room fell into a heavy silence after Marco spoke. Only the sound of rain hitting the windows broke through that stillness. Nikolai stood there, eyes glued to the photograph as if it had injected something into his veins. I’d seen him upset before—angry, shattered, wild—but this felt different. This kind of silence carried a sense of danger. “Whoever took that picture,” Marco said quietly, “was way too close. Closer than they should’ve been.” Nikolai flipped the photo over again, his thumb tracing the red writing. The words seemed to bleed in the dim light. The game isn’t over. I stepped closer. “It could be a warning.” “No,” he replied flatly. “It’s a message. From someone who knows me.” “How so?” I wondered. He locked eyes with me. “Because that phrase… used to be mine.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” He let out a slow breath, putting the photo down. “Years ago, before I worked for your father, I was involved in a covert operation. Private contractors—mercenaries, mai

The hospital was filled with that familiar smell of antiseptic and heavy silence. I hated it. Nikolai was lying there, unconscious, with his head wrapped in white gauze. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths—breaths that seemed almost stubborn. The doctors said it was nothing serious, just a concussion, a few broken ribs, and some burns on his shoulder. But seeing him so still shattered something inside me. He’d always been dynamic—strength personified, the storm that everyone else tried to avoid. Now, he looked so delicate—so human. Marco stood by the door, his usual demeanor replaced by a quiet guilt. “He saved you,” he finally broke the silence. “I didn’t ask him to,” I barely managed to say. Marco's eyes softened. “That’s the point.” I turned away, fighting back tears. “What about Sergei?” “Gone. The explosion took out most of the area. The police think it was just an accident at an abandoned factory.” He let out a sigh. “But you know him—this was planned. He wanted

The explosion ripped through the monastery like a scream. I hit the ground hard, feeling dust and debris scatter across the hall around me. My ears were ringing, and everything twisted into flashes of fire and shadow. "Nikolai!" I shouted, but my voice came out hoarse. Through the haze, I caught sight of him—blood smeared across his cheek, crawling toward me. "I’ve got you," he managed to rasp, dragging himself closer despite the smoke choking the air. The ceiling creaked ominously. A chunk of stone fell between us, scattering sparks like fireflies. I attempted to stand, but pain shot through my shoulder. From somewhere behind, Marco’s voice echoed, barking orders through the static. "Move! Everyone out! There’s a secondary charge!" But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not without her. Through the smoke, I saw Isabella again—standing in the doorway, seemingly untouched, calm. Her eyes glowed faintly in the flickering flames, blank and distant. "Isabella!" I screamed. She didn’t re

The silence after Sergei fell felt heavier than the gunshot itself. Smoke spiraled through the air, blending with the metallic scent of blood and the waxy residue from the candles. They flickered weakly, casting a trembling light on his still body. Isabella’s hands trembled as she whispered, “He’s gone… right?” Nikolai crouched next to Sergei, checking for a pulse. After a moment, he looked up, his face inscrutable. “He’s dead.” I thought I’d feel relief. I thought the fire in my chest would finally ease. But all I felt was a strange emptiness. Isabella collapsed onto the floor, her voice cracking. “He said he’d kill you if I didn’t—” “It’s over,” I said softly, kneeling by her side. “He can’t hurt us anymore.” But even as I reassured her, I saw Nikolai's unwavering gaze on Sergei’s body. Something troubled him. “Alessia,” he said quietly. “Come see this.” I stood slowly, following his line of sight. Sergei’s jacket had flared open, revealing a small black device strapped to

By the time the black car cruised through the iron gates, you could feel the atmosphere around the villa had shifted. I sensed it in my chest before I even saw it—the kind of tension that hinted at blood and betrayal. The Don was up on the balcony, his coat fluttering in the cold breeze. He didn’t acknowledge the man getting out of the car. He didn’t need to. It was clear as day: the wolf had been welcomed into the house. I was peeking from behind one of the curtains, hiding in the shadows. The guy was tall and lean, with a face that seemed to have forgotten how to smile. His eyes were darting around, scanning everything—the guards, the windows, the darkness. He wasn’t here for a friendly visit; he was here to clean up. “Who’s he?” I whispered. Nikolai answered from behind me, “His name’s Lucien. They call him the Ghost. Your father brings him in when he wants a problem to quietly vanish.” My stomach churned. “So he’s here for someone?” Nikolai clenched his jaw. “Or two someon