All Chapters of Bound by Vows and Vendetta: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

EPILOGUEA Letter From Lorenzo (Bonus Chapter)A letter was found, months after Lorenzo's death. Delivered by a trusted hand. It smelled of gunpowder and roses.It was wrapped in old De Rossi parchment, sealed with a blood-red wax crest, the wolf and flame. Aria opened it in the vineyard, where their world had first cracked open. Where Lorenzo had once bled for her. Where he now rested beneath the roots of the oldest vine, the one they'd promised each other under.She unfolded the letter slowly, knowing it might be the last thing in this world that truly belonged to her and no one else.~~~~~~~~~~To My Woman of Steel,If you're reading this, it means the war has ended, at least for me. I hope the same is true for you.I never believed in redemption. Not for men like me. My hands were born into blood, raised in fire, and shaped by a world that worships vengeance more than it honors love. But then you came. You, my enemy, my bride, my battlefield, my home.I married you as a weapon. I

~ARIA~Sicily — Coastal Town, Hidden Chapel, One Night.Theme: What Love Could've Been. What It Chose to Be Anyway.~~~~~It started with silence.Not the deadly kind. Not the kind that warned of ambushes or assassins or a knife beneath a dinner table.This was a silence that smelled like citrus trees and salt. The kind that clung to summer skin and licked the edges of an unmarked coastal road. The kind that existed before vows, before vendetta, before the war turned their names into warnings.Aria stepped barefoot onto the crumbling stone path of a ruined chapel. Her hair was unbound. Her dress wasn’t white. It was midnight blue, soft and light, clinging at the hips, trailing behind her like the memory of something that once ran free.Lorenzo stood at the altar.No priest. No guards. Just him, in an open collar shirt, sleeves rolled, black slacks, his hair wind-raked and defiant.He held nothing in his hands.He just waited.Like he'd been doing since the moment they met.~~~~~They

~LORENZO~ROME — PRIVATE HOSPITAL WARD — 03:11 A.M.The machines hissed like slow snakes.Lorenzo stared at the ceiling tiles above him, counting the cracks like sins. One, two, three, no, that was just blood from the last time he’d coughed so hard his lungs protested. A nurse had wiped it away and said nothing.They never did.He was the kind of patient no one wanted to ask questions about. Cash sealed his record. His name sealed their mouths.Outside the tinted window, the city hummed. The world didn’t care that Lorenzo De Rossi was dying. That his organs, his liver , his lungs, his insides, were ticking out like an old bomb someone forgot to disarm. Slow Umbra toxins buried in old wounds had finally decided to wake up.And Lorenzo had no one to blame but himself.He should’ve died in Palermo. In Naples. On the steps of the De Rossi compound when the bloodstorm started. But death had been patient. Too patient.Until now.~~~~~ROME // PRIVATE HOSPITAL WARD // 03:34 A.M.The hallway

~ARIA~ ROME — BLACK HOUSE BALCONY 03:33 A.M.The city was silent beneath her. The lights of Rome shimmered like old ghosts refusing to die. Aria stood wrapped in a dark shawl, a single candle burning beside her as the ink bled into paper. She had written and torn up this letter more times than she could count. But tonight, she wouldn’t stop. Tonight, the words would be spoken, even if only to silence.~~~~~Dear Lorenzo,I don’t know if the dead can read. I don’t know if silence has memory. Or if smoke remembers the shape of the flame.But I remember you.Every version of you. The cruel one. The clever one. The broken boy inside the monster. The man who called war his lover and still found time to teach his son how to aim.Do you remember the night you told me, "I’ll never ask you to forgive me. I just want you to survive me"?Well, I did. I survived you.But I didn’t escape you.You linger in every room. In the smell of cigar ash and old steel. In the silence between commands. In th

~EMILIO~Alternate Reality / Dream SequenceTheme: Survival vs. Peace. Power vs. Legacy. The Cost of a Name.~~~~~ROME — THE BLACK HOUSE — NIGHTIt begins in silence.Not peace. Not quiet. Just the kind of silence that waits for gunfire.Emilio stands in the war room. It's not as he remembers it. The walls are intact, but everything else feels off, like a film layered over a dream. The light is too sharp. The floor too clean. The maps are updated, glowing.And then, he hears it.Bootsteps. Measured. Familiar.He turns.Lorenzo De Rossi walks in.Not in memory. Not in illusion. Not dying.Alive.Dressed in a matte black suit, his signature long coat sweeping the floor. Silver at his temples, but his eyes still storm-bright.He walks to the table, nods once. Lights a cigarette."Status?"Emilio can’t breathe.He doesn’t know how to answer.Because in this world, Lorenzo never died.And the war never ended.~~~~~FLASHCUT: GLOBAL OPERATIONSScreens flicker with chaos. Black Sun cells st