The king of Ashes のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

(Alessandro’s POV) Disbelief slammed into me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. The grogginess vanished, replaced by a cold, primal dread that clawed its way up my spine. I stared at the man by the bar, a mirror image twisted by malice, and a decade of suppressed memories crashed down upon me with brutal force. Cassian. The name, a ghost I had buried deeper than our parents, clawed its way from the recesses of my mind. My twin brother. The brother everyone believed had died in the fire that night. His face was mine, the same sharp angles, the same dark hair, but etched with a cruel arrogance I had never possessed. His eyes, the same shade of whiskey brown, held a cold, calculating gleam that sent a shiver of icy understanding through me. The subtle differences I had subconsciously registered in his movements now screamed with horrifying clarity. “Cassian,” I breathed, the name tasting like ash on my tongue. It had been so long since I had uttered it, so

(Isabella’s POV) The silence in the room was a living entity, thick and suffocating. It pressed in on me, my heartbeat a frantic, terrified drum against the crushing weight of the impossible. Before me stood two Alessandros, two sides of a coin I never knew existed. One was the man I loved, his whiskey-colored eyes filled with a decade of pain and a fierce, protective love for me. The other was a stranger wearing his face, his eyes holding nothing but cold amusement and a terrifying, triumphant malice. My mind raced, trying to process the horrifying reality. A twin. A brother presumed dead, now resurrected as a monster. The headache, the collapse… it had been a plan. A coordinated intrusion into the most secure place in the city, into the most intimate moment of my life. Alessandro—my Alessandro—took a half-step, his body instinctively positioning himself to partially shield me. The movement was subtle, but it was a clear declaration. I was his to protect. The air crackled, ch

(Isabella’s POV) The adrenaline had long since bled out of me, leaving behind a cold, heavy dread that settled deep in my bones. I sat curled on one of the large, grey sofas in the living room, a cashmere blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders, but it did nothing to ward off the chill. The penthouse, once a symbol of intimidating luxury, now felt violated, its sanctity shattered. Men in dark suits moved through the space with the quiet, deadly efficiency of wolves. They were Alessandro’s personal security, a silent army sweeping every corner, their faces grim and focused. Technicians were analyzing the shattered window in the bedroom, their hushed voices a murmur against the backdrop of the city’s hum. I was watching the seamless, terrifying machine of his organization at work, a stark reminder of the world I now inhabited. This was not a nightmare from which I could wake. It was my life. I clutched a warm mug of tea Sofia had pressed into my hands, her stern face etched

(Isabella’s POV) Time stretched and warped in the silent study. I sat on the leather chesterfield, the book containing my father’s secret resting on the desk like a dormant bomb. Lucian remained by the door, a statue of quiet vigilance. Every distant siren, every creak of the building, sent a fresh jolt of anxiety through me. Alessandro had left hours ago, his face a mask of cold, controlled fury. He had gone to “attend to business,” a euphemism so chilling I dared not let my mind linger on its meaning. He had gone to hunt the traitor. My thoughts were a tangled mess of past and present. My father, a man I thought I knew, was now a stranger who had left cryptic warnings in his enemy's library. And Alessandro, the man I was falling in love with, had a ghost with his face, a brother determined to destroy him. The door to the study finally opened, and my heart leaped into my throat. Alessandro entered, moving with a weary grace that hadn't been there when he left. The cold fire i

Alessandro’s POV) The night air over the port was thick and cold, heavy with the smell of diesel, stagnant water, and the faint, briny tang of Lake Michigan. Darkness was a shroud over the decaying industrial landscape, a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers and skeletal cranes. Here, in the forgotten corners of my city, my brother had chosen to build his nest. I lay prone on the gravel rooftop of a derelict warehouse, a high-powered rifle resting on its bipod before me. It wasn't my primary weapon for the night, but it was my eyes. Through the thermal scope, the world was a stark painting of heat and shadow. My team, a handpicked unit of six of my best soldiers, were ghosts in that painting, moving with a fluid silence that was the product of years of training and absolute loyalty. We had infiltrated the perimeter an hour ago, a silent, lethal tide seeping into the cracks of Cassian’s makeshift fortress. My emotions were a distant, frozen sea. The rage, the grief, the conf