All Chapters of HIS STOLEN PRIDE: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The flash of light swallowed everything.For one dizzy second, Elena couldn’t tell if she’d gone blind or if the world itself had burned white. The air crackled with sound — shouts, waves, metal against metal — then silence, sharp and absolute.Her heart pounded in her ears. Somewhere nearby, someone groaned, then the echo of feet scrambling across the dock. She blinked until shapes returned: shadows darting between stacks of crates, the ship looming above like a dark mountain.“Alessandro!” she called, voice trembling.No answer.She moved forward, her hands shaking, searching through the glare. The air smelled of salt and smoke, like storms colliding. Then she saw him — kneeling beside a fallen crate, clutching his shoulder, his expression carved from pain and stubborn defiance.“You’re hurt!” she breathed, rushing to him.“It’s nothing.” His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. “We have to move.”“Where—”He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the shadows between two cont

The dawn was slow to arrive. A thin gray light spilled across the hills, softening the scars of the night before. The safehouse crouched at the edge of an olive grove, its walls cracked, its windows veiled with dust and salt from the sea below.Elena stood outside the door, watching the horizon burn into pale gold. Her hair clung to her damp skin, her heartbeat still tangled with the memory of fire and smoke. Every sound — the creak of wood, the sigh of the wind — felt heavier now, as if the world had stopped holding its breath only to exhale in grief.Inside, the air hummed with silence. Lucia sat at a small wooden table, the glow of her laptop washing her face in cold blue light. Alessandro leaned against the wall, shirt torn, his arm bandaged roughly. The smell of antiseptic clashed with the faint aroma of old coffee.> “You should rest,” Elena said quietly.Alessandro’s eyes lifted from the floor. “I’ve been resting my whole life. That’s how I ended up here.”She wanted to argue,

Rain came softly at first, then heavier, until the narrow roads of the old town glistened like mirrors. The small ferry rocked gently against the dock, its paint peeling, its name — Lucente — half-faded. Elena pulled her coat tighter as she stepped onto the pier, the salty air clinging to her skin. Beside her, Lucia adjusted the brim of her cap, scanning the coastline.“Naples,” she murmured. “Of all places.”“It’s where Matteo’s last file led,” Elena replied, tucking the folded map into her pocket. “The coordinates matched an old archive house registered under the name Leo di Sangue.”Lucia frowned. “Blood Lion? That can’t be coincidence.”“It’s never coincidence,” Elena said. Her eyes trailed the distant hills rising above the harbor — old ruins silhouetted against the storm. “Matteo left a trail. We just have to follow it before they follow us.”They made their way through the winding alleys, their footsteps echoing against walls plastered with faded posters and graffiti. The city

Florence slept restlessly that night. Rain misted through the narrow streets, turning the cobblestones into silver veins that reflected the glow of the streetlamps. Elena couldn’t sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the note Alessandro had left — its edges worn, the words faint but deliberate.Stop chasing shadows. Trust the lion’s heart.Lucia stirred on the sofa, half-awake. “You’re still reading that thing?”Elena didn’t look up. “There’s something hidden in it. The way he phrased it — it’s not just a warning.”Lucia sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Maybe it’s a message. Alessandro was trained to leave coded phrases in letters, right? The old De Luca method?”Elena nodded slowly. “My father used to talk about it. They called it the Shadow Pact. It was an alliance Matteo created before everything fell apart — a network of people bound by secrecy, loyalty, and blood. They were meant to protect both houses, but the council dismantled it years ago.”“Maybe not all of it,” Lucia

Florence was different when they returned. The storms had passed, leaving the air sharp and cold, the streets slick with leftover rain. Yet something in the city felt heavier — as if the wind itself carried whispers of everything that had been lost.Elena walked beside Alessandro through the narrow streets, her hand brushing against his. Neither spoke much. After everything — the fire, the shipyard, the faces in the fog — silence felt like the only language that didn’t hurt.They’d taken shelter in a small inn on the outskirts of the city. Lucia was asleep in the next room, exhaustion finally winning over her stubborn will. A single candle flickered between Elena and Alessandro at the wooden table. Outside, the night was quiet except for the faint hum of traffic along the river.Alessandro turned the small data drive in his fingers, the silver glint catching the candlelight. “It’s strange,” he said softly. “This tiny thing holds centuries of lies.”Elena watched him. “And the truth th