บททั้งหมดของ The King’s Broken Oath: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

War had never scared Lorenzo, Tally Man.He had grown up among gun smoke and blood-soaked promises. He had buried men before they learned how to shave. Death was familiar. Predictable.But tonight—Tonight was different.From the upper floor of an abandoned textile factory, Lorenzo watched Costa Nosa burn. Flames climbed the skyline like accusations, painting the night red. Sirens screamed in the distance, useless and overwhelmed. Somewhere below, a man cried out before the sound was abruptly cut short.Another life erased.By Bruno Deluca.Lorenzo lowered the binoculars slowly, his fingers tightening until the metal bit into his skin. His city was bleeding, and every drop of blood whispered the same name.The Ice King.“They’re pushing from the west,” a lieutenant said behind him, voice shaking. “Three warehouses gone. Two captains dead. We’ve lost contact with the docks.”Lorenzo didn’t turn.“Of course you have,” he replied calmly. “That’s where Bruno always starts. He amputates be

The gates of the Deluca estate stood tall and unyielding, iron bars gleaming beneath the late afternoon sun. Armed guards lined both sides, their eyes sharp, fingers never far from their weapons. The city beyond was still bruised from the night before—burned streets, shattered glass, whispered fear.A black armored sedan rolled toward the gate and slowed.“Open it,” the guard commanded into his radio.The gates parted slowly.Inside the car, Gennado Deluca sat upright, hands folded over his cane, his silver hair combed back neatly, his sharp eyes betraying nothing of his age. He had survived wars, betrayals, and generations of bloodshed. Yet something in his chest felt unsettled today.The war had crossed a line.And Bruno—his son—was standing too close to the fire.As the car came to a stop just outside the main entrance, raised voices cut through the controlled silence.Gennado frowned.At the side of the gate stood a woman, her posture rigid with fury, her hands clenched around a w

“The only man foolish enough to challenge a king himself,” the voice mocked through the phone.Bruno’s fingers tightened around the device.“Lorenzo,” he murmured. The name tasted like poison. Rage burned in his chest, but his voice remained steady—cold, disciplined. He would not give his enemy the pleasure of hearing fury.“Enjoy the sunlight while you can,” Bruno replied. “Even the brightest sky turns dark.”A low, cruel laugh filled the line.“My friend, darkness is where the game becomes sweet.”The call ended.Bruno lowered the phone slowly.“How dare you,” he muttered.The fury inside him surged like a rising tide.“Drive faster,” he ordered.The driver obeyed instantly, pressing harder on the accelerator. The car shot through traffic, ignoring lights and horns. Other vehicles swerved out of the way as if sensing death approaching.The Ice King had spoken.Italy’s private terminal glittered like a palace of glass and marble. Luxury flowers lined the polished floors, but the beau

Gennado Deluca did not sleep that night.The name Emily kept circling his thoughts like a vulture over a battlefield. He sat in the dim light of his study, a glass of untouched whiskey on the desk beside him, the curtains drawn tight as though the darkness itself might be listening.Emily was not pregnant when she left me.He was certain of it.He could still see her standing by the window of their old villa, rain streaking the glass like tears neither of them dared to shed. Her dress had hung loosely on her frame. No rounded belly. No maternal glow. Only fear.“I need to go,” she had whispered.“To where?” he had demanded.“Somewhere you can’t follow.”Three days later, she was gone. Vanished into the underworld of secrets and shadows. And for twenty years, he had mourned her as a dead woman.Now this girl—Lidia—stood in his son’s house with Emily’s blood in her veins.If she truly is Emily’s child… then something doesn’t add up.Gennado rose and paced the room, his cane tapping soft

Night wrapped the Bruno estate in a false calm.From the outside, the mansion looked untouched—its gates tall, its gardens trimmed, its windows glowing softly like nothing in the world had changed. But inside its walls, tension lived in every corridor, in every whisper of footsteps, in every gun cocked quietly behind velvet curtains.Three days had passed since the city of Nostra Cosa exploded into open war.Bruno and Lorenzo no longer fought in shadows.They fought in fire.Warehouses burned along the docks.Cargo ships vanished before sunrise.Banks froze accounts tied to both empires.Every morning, the news screens mounted across the city replayed the same footage: black smoke rising over districts that once slept peacefully, sirens screaming through empty streets, and masked men in tactical gear escorting terrified civilians away from scenes of bloodshed.“The government has declared a state of emergency,” one broadcaster announced in a trembling voice. “Authorities say this conf