All Chapters of Whispers of Loyalty: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Alana The night bled into dawn before I realized I’d stopped breathing. The estate was silent again, the kind of silence that only came after violence. The scent of gunpowder still lingered in the halls, faint but unmistakable—a ghost that refused to leave. I stood by the window of the war-room, watching the first gray light drag itself across the courtyard. The marble looked pink in places where blood had run with the rain. Zach hadn’t come upstairs yet. He was still somewhere below, finishing what he started—making sure the traitors’ bodies were burned, their names erased. He said it was practical. I knew it was personal. I pressed my palms against the cold glass and whispered to the empty room, “How much of us is left?” No answer came. Only the steady drum of rain. Behind me, Gia entered quietly, a mug of coffee in one hand and her pistol holstered against her thigh. Even at dawn, she looked composed—dark hair slicked back, eyes sharp. I envied that steadiness. Mine was a borr

AlanaThe rain stopped before dawn, but the sound stayed in the house.It lived in the hallways, the soft hiss of runoff through gutters, the occasional drip that found its way into the stone cracks. Every wall of the Vittore estate seemed to breathe with it—slow, patient, waiting for the next storm.Zach hadn’t come back to bed. I woke to the cold imprint where he’d been and the smell of gunpowder still clinging to the sheets. When I found him in the study an hour later, he was already dressed, leaning over reports that hadn’t existed the night before. The fire had burned down to ash.“You didn’t sleep,” I said.He didn’t look up. “Neither did the men.”I crossed to the window, watching the gray light filter through the glass. “You think the leak is real?”“I know it is.” His voice was flat. “One of the couriers was feeding Leone’s people our movements. We don’t know how deep it goes yet.”I turned. “Then we start digging.”He looked at me finally—tired, hollow-eyed, but st

AlanaMorning didn’t come gently.The sky bled open in gray streaks, and the air carried the weight of smoke from the docks. Even inside the estate, it lingered — the scent of salt, gunpowder, and endings.When I stepped into the war room, the men fell silent. Their eyes followed me as though waiting for orders, and for the first time, no one looked past me for Zach’s approval. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, letting me take the table.It wasn’t a test. It was trust. And somehow that felt heavier than any weapon.“Report,” I said.Niko slid a file across the table. “The Leone convoy’s gone. Word on the street is they’re pulling men from the east quarters — consolidating.”“Consolidating means cornered,” Gia added. “They’re bleeding, but not dead.”I scanned the file, flipping through photos, intercepted messages, names I recognized and others I didn’t. It wasn’t just about Leone anymore. His allies — smaller crews that fed from his money — were starting to waver. That was lev

ALANAThe city didn’t sleep after a blow like the one we delivered.It sharpened its teeth and waited.I felt it in my bones when I woke—an electric pull under my skin, like the atmosphere before a storm splits open. Zach was gone from the sheets, the heat of him lingering only in the indent of the mattress. He always left early after a night like that, rising before guilt or doubt had the chance to grow claws.Not that he’d ever admit to either.I dressed in silence: black trousers, fitted vest, leather boots laced tight enough to mean business. My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass—a far cry from pearl buttons and silk dresses. Softer parts of me still lived somewhere under the armor, but they weren’t the parts the world deserved right now.I stepped into the corridor just as the house rumbled awake. Doors clicked, radios whispered, boots marched in rehearsed cadence. Our empire hadn’t been rebuilt—it had been reforged in fire, shaped by two hands instead of one.Two h

ALANAThe estate felt different after a night like that.It didn’t recover—it recalibrated.The air carried remnants of rain and iron, the kind of scent that clung to the back of your throat like a warning. Boots tracked water through hallways that once echoed silk and laughter. The walls remembered candlelight and quiet diplomacy… now they listened for gunfire, for footsteps, for coded knocks at 3 a.m.I used to despise this world.Now I was architecting it.The morning after the junction hit, the sun had the nerve to rise like nothing had happened. Pale gold spilled through storm-parted clouds, brushing across the windows of my father’s house—my house now, I reminded myself. The kingdom I didn’t ask for, rebuilt beside the man I would have walked into fire for long before I understood what fire demanded.Zach was already awake when I left the bedroom. Of course.The side of the mattress where he’d slept was barely warm. I found him exactly where instinct said he’d be—on the eastern