All Chapters of The Devil In White : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adrian POVThe message burns in my mind long after the screen goes dark.Your father’s killer is one of your own.I stare at the words until they blur into the shadows around me. My office feels colder tonight—the kind of cold that seeps beneath the skin and settles inside your bones. The fireplace crackles, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.Luca stands near the window, his expression hard. “Who sent it?”“I don’t know.” My voice is low, steady, but my hand tightens around the glass of whiskey. “No name, no trace. Just those words.”He frowns. “Could be bait. Someone wants you paranoid.”“They’ve succeeded,” I mutter. “Because now I can’t trust anyone.”Silence stretches. The kind that speaks louder than words.Tomorrow, I have to face the council again—the heads of what remains of my father’s empire. Men twice my age, waiting for me to slip, to falter, to prove I’m not ready to lead. I’ll prove them wrong. But first, I need to know who sent that message… and who among us is hiding b

Adrian POVThe signal leads us to the outskirts of the city, where the air smells like rust and smoke, and the only light comes from flickering street lamps that haven’t worked properly in years.Luca parks the car a block away from the location. The building ahead of us is nothing but a shell of old brick walls, shattered windows, a collapsed roof in the back. It used to be part of the old Moretti communications network before my father shut it down.Now it’s alive again.Not with people, but with sound, faint electrical hums that shouldn’t be there.Luca moves ahead first, gun drawn. I follow, silent, scanning every corner. The dust on the floor is disturbed, fresh footprints layered over old ones. Someone’s been here—recently.We reach the control room, and my pulse tightens.Wires snake across the walls, connected to screens and recording equipment. Some are still running, faint blue lights blinking on the consoles. On one of the monitors in my villa. Different angles. The study.

The explosion hit before dawn.I remember the flash first, it's was white, blinding, too silent for half a heartbeat. then the roar that followed, tearing through steel and glass. The Moretti warehouse was supposed to be secure. My father’s men built it themselves; every inch of concrete, every bolt, every gate was meant to be untouchable. But as the ground split beneath me and fire climbed the walls, I realized that “untouchable” was just another lie. I was not supposed to be scared but I was.The impact made me, hit the ground hard. Dust and smoke filled my lungs. Somewhere behind me, Luca shouted my name. I crawled through the debris, gun in hand, my vision blurred from the smoke. The alarms wailed, a dying sound against the chaos.“Luca!” I shouted with everything in me.A faint groan answered me. I found him under a fallen steel beam, his left arm was twisted, his own blood pooling beneath him. I grabbed the beam and shoved it aside with a grunt, adrenaline burning through me.“C

After completing the call with Luca, I contacted the council. I did so for one reason: to draw blood without firing a single bullet. The long marble table stretches before me. At its head my father once sat; now the position belongs to me. The men surrounding the table, captains, lieutenants, and advisers watch me with careful eyes. Some are loyal, some are opportunists, and some are snakes who wear smiles. Luca stands behind my chair in silence, his arms crossed. Marco lounges several seats away, a glass of scotch in his hand, observing me with the faintest smile that expresses equal parts pride and curiosity. Isabella sits to the side, not an official participant in the meeting but not excluded either. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, and her face is calm and unreadable. She knows that she is being watched. She also knows that I have not completely forgiven the shadow that once followed her. However, tonight is not about her at least, not yet. “Gentlemen,” I begin, my vo

The air still smells of smoke.Even hours after the explosion, it clings to my skin and seeps into my lungs. The Moretti warehouse, what was left of it, lies in ruins. Charred steel beams claw at the sky like the bones of a giant.I walk slowly through the wreckage, my boots crunching over glass and ash. The world around me is quiet except for the faint crackle of dying fire and the distant sound of sirens that will never come close.This wasn’t an attack. It was a message.Luca limps beside me, his shoulder still wrapped in bloodied gauze. “They knew the shipment time, the guard rotation, everything,” he says, voice low. “We’ve got a mole.”I don’t answer. My eyes trace the scorched walls, the burned-out containers, the scattered bodies that once carried my name with pride. Half my men gone in one night, not because of weakness, but because of betrayal.“Any survivors?” I ask finally.Luca nods toward two men kneeling in the dirt, coughing. “Barely. They said the attackers were weari