Todos los capítulos de BOUND TO THE BLOOD KING: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

“Bianca! Do you copy Bianca, answer me!”Matteo’s voice bled through the comms, distorted, desperate. Static hissed back, broken by the roar of flame.The fortress was gone.Or what was left of it was trying to die, walls collapsing inward, metal shrieking as if mourning the dead. The air reeked of smoke and charred oil. Rain fell, hissing against the embers, too late to save anything.Through that burning ruin, a figure moved.She stumbled first. Then straightened.Bianca.Her coat was half-burned, skin smeared in soot, hair wild and dripping with ash. One side of her face bore a streak of blood where a shard of glass had kissed her cheek. But her impossible, gold-flecked eyes were still alive. Still hers.She dragged herself free of the rubble and into the open, the night air slicing her lungs like ice. Her earpiece crackled again.“Bianca! Say something please ”She pressed her hand against it, voice rasping. “Still breathing.”The line went silent for a moment. Then Matteo exhaled

“Where is she?”Matteo’s voice cut through the command bunker like a blade.No one answered.Screens glowed against his face, maps bleeding red, live feeds flickering with static. Bianca’s signal had gone dark twelve hours ago, somewhere between Zurich and the Tyrolean border.Every trace of her convoy was wiped. Every satellite feed jammed. Every witness died.Rhys Calder shifted uneasily by the console. “Her last message was short,” he said. “Two words. It begins.”Matteo exhaled slowly, like a man trying to contain a hurricane in his chest. “Then it’s war.”He turned to the operations board. The Red Council’s insignia glowed from the intercept files: the phoenix in flame, Ash’s new sigil. Across the feed, Vienna still burned, rebuilt and weaponized under her rule.“She wants her mother to rise,” Matteo murmured. “But she doesn’t understand… Bianca never fell.”Behind him, Leona Blake stepped forward, voice low. “What’s your order, sir?”He stared at the screen one last time, where

The city breathed in silence, broken only by the distant groan of twisted steel. Vienna, a ghost of its former glory, lay draped in smoke and ruin. Bianca moved through it like a shadow silent, unbroken, and unrelenting. Her coat, singed and soaked from rain, clung to her as she traced the paths Ash’s forces had left behind.Every street corner told a story: ash-strewn barricades, abandoned weapons, the faint scent of burnt rose oil. Ash had been meticulous. Precise. Calculated. Every move Bianca made, she knew, had already been anticipated. But a mother’s patience, honed through years of survival and betrayal, allowed her to see what her daughter could not: every obstacle was a mirror of herself.Yet she pressed forward. Her pulse was a drum, a metronome that guided her through the ruins. Footfalls muted against wet cobblestones. She slipped through the skeletons of buildings like smoke, her golden eyes scanning for danger and weakness alike.A faint flicker caught her eye, a lone fi

The courtyard erupted. Fire burst from concealed panels, steel snapping like brittle bones. Bianca rolled through the flames, boots skidding on molten metal. Heat licked her face, singing hair and skin, yet she moved with an unnatural grace, a shadow within the inferno.“Predictable,” Ash’s voice rang through the fortress speakers, icy, melodic, and cruel. “Every move you make feeds my fire.”Bianca’s fingers clenched around the twin daggers. Her eyes, gold-flecked and unblinking, scanned for traps she had expected the theatrics, anticipated the pyrotechnics. Ash was clever, but patience and observation were Bianca’s weapons.A narrow pathway between two scorched pillars offered a chance. She darted through, letting the flames roar behind her, leaving only scorched echoes of steel and smoke. Above, hidden cameras adjusted angles, drones pivoted, but she was already gone, a ghost against the burning backdrop. “You taught me to survive fire,” she whispered under her breath. “Now, I wil

The night was a living thing, writhing with smoke, ash, and the echoes of fire. Vienna’s ruins groaned beneath the weight of collapsed buildings, twisted steel, and shattered dreams. Bianca moved through the labyrinthine streets like a predator, her senses honed, every step precise, every breath measured.The stranger had left no trace, no clue of their identity, only the sense of inevitability that hung over the city like a storm. Bianca could feel it, coiled and patient, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.A sudden explosion to her left threw her to the ground. Debris rained down. Flames licked her coat. Her daggers were already in hand.“Predictable,” a voice hissed from the shadows. Not Ash. Not Matteo. Cold, precise, unfamiliar.Bianca rolled, striking before the figure could fully reveal itself. The cloak flared, eyes glinting like ice, as the stranger vanished again, leaving behind a trail of silver glyphs glowing faintly in the firelight. “So this is the hand behind the