บททั้งหมดของ BLOOD TIE AND BROKEN VOWS : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

The Moretti safehouse smelled of gun oil and antiseptic. Men lay on cots in the main hall, bandages wrapped hastily around gunshot wounds. Their groans echoed against the stone walls, each one a grim reminder of the cost of Damian’s wrath.Damian stood in the center, his shirt discarded, a deep cut slashed across his ribs. The medic pressed a cloth to the wound, but Damian didn’t flinch. His pain was elsewhere, deeper.His lieutenant, Marco, approached carefully. “We’ve lost fifteen men tonight. Maybe more. The city’s burning, Boss, but so are we.”Damian’s gaze flicked toward the window, where dawn painted the sky in bruised colors. “Losses are acceptable. Betrayal is not.”Marco hesitated, then asked softly, “And Adriana? Do you still believe she—”Damian’s glare silenced him. “She’s alive. That’s all that matters.”But even as he spoke, the doubt Isabella had planted gnawed like acid in his chest.At the chapel Adriana sat on the cold floor of the ruined chapel, the candle she had

The storm had chased him all the way back to the Moretti safehouse. Marco’s car screeched into the gravel, headlights cutting through sheets of rain. He didn’t even bother shutting the door behind him as he bolted inside, water dripping from his coat.Damian stood near the hearth, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, his eyes hard. Adriana sat curled in the corner chair, a book in her lap she hadn’t been reading.“Marco?” Damian’s tone was clipped, sharp. “What did you hear?”Marco’s chest rose and fell as though the words themselves were knives inside him. “The Council. They’ve moved.”Adriana stiffened. She had heard of the Council in whispers, but seeing Marco’s haunted eyes chilled her to the bone.Damian set the glass aside, every inch of him turning into the man who had been raised for war. “Tell me everything.”And so Marco did—about the vote, the division of territory, and, most importantly, the name whispered in venom across the table: Adriana.When her name left Marco’s

The storm had returned, sweeping across the city like a curse. Somewhere in the labyrinth of narrow alleys, a shadow slipped between buildings, unseen, unheard.The spy—known to few as Matteo Rossi’s bastard son—pulled his hood tighter as he made his way back to the Council’s informants. Weeks of silence had kept suspicion low, but tonight, with the oath burned into his memory, he carried the kind of weapon more deadly than a gun.Inside a crumbling warehouse, a Council agent waited. “Well?” the man asked, lighting a cigarette.The spy leaned against the wall, smirking. “I bring you fire.”And then, in precise detail, he relayed every word of the vow—blood for blood, love for loyalty, death before betrayal.The agent’s lips curled. “So, the wolf binds himself to the lion’s daughter. Perfect. The Council will know how to turn this against them.”At the Moretti safehouse, Adriana sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair slowly. Damian entered quietly, his reflection appearing behin

The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, their golden light spilling across silk gowns and polished marble. A masquerade of power, where smiles hid daggers and laughter concealed war.At the heart of it all stood Isabella De Luca, her emerald gown cut daringly low, her lips curved into the perfect mask of charm. For weeks she had vanished from the scene, licking her wounds after Damian had humiliated her. But now she was back, and her eyes burned with something sharper than jealousy—strategy.“Damian Moretti thinks he’s untouchable,” she purred to the men circling her, sipping from their glasses. “But love is the sharpest blade. And I know exactly where to cut.”The men chuckled, but their gazes lingered too long. Isabella’s beauty was her weapon, but her mind was the true danger. And tonight, she was prepared to gamble everything.In a dark corner of the ballroom, two Council members observed Isabella with keen interest. Lorenzo Ferro, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, leaned tow

Naples had always been alive at night—laughter spilling from cafés, music drifting across narrow cobblestone streets, the sea whispering beyond the harbor. But tonight, the city was on fire.Flames devoured a Council-owned warehouse by the docks, smoke curling into the starless sky. The acrid scent of burning oil mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Sirens wailed in the distance, but no one dared intervene. Everyone knew this was mafia business.Damian stood in the heart of it all, his black suit dusted with ash, his face lit by fire. His men moved swiftly around him—striking at rival crews, crippling Isabella’s allies one by one.Lorenzo appeared at his side, his jaw tense. “We’ve sent a message tonight. But Damian, the city’s watching. The Council’s watching. This—” He gestured at the inferno. “This isn’t control. This is war.”Damian’s gaze never left the flames. His voice was ice over fire.“Then let them choke on it.”At the safehouse, Adriana pressed her hands against the wind