บททั้งหมดของ BLOOD TIE AND BROKEN VOWS : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

The Moretti estate glittered that night, its marble halls alive with laughter and the sharp clink of crystal. To the families gathered, it was another night of feasting, another show of power. But beneath the chandeliers, war was being played in whispers and glances.Damian sat at the head of the long table, his glass untouched, his gaze dark as storm clouds. He felt the weight of every eye on him, waiting for his next move. Yet his mind was elsewhere—on Adriana. On her silence. On the growing shadow between them.And on Isabella.She sat beside him like a queen in her rightful throne, her smile radiant, her hand resting possessively close to his. To the world, she looked like his partner. But to Damian, she looked like a venomous crown tightening around his skull.---Isabella leaned in, her perfume curling around him like smoke.“You’re restless tonight,” she murmured. “Wolves don’t pace unless something is wrong.”Damian’s jaw tightened. “Or unless they smell a snake.”Her smile di

The night bled into dawn. The Moretti estate stood in uneasy silence, its marble halls stained with blood and shadows. Outside, the courtyard still bore the scars of the assassins’ attack—broken glass glittering in the gardens, and scorch marks on the stone where lanterns had fallen.But the true battle was inside.Damian lay bandaged in a hidden chamber, guarded by men loyal only to him. His wound had been deep but not mortal. Still, it left him weakened, pale, and half-conscious, a wolf snarling in chains of flesh.And while he fought fever in silence, the clans gathered in the grand hall.---The Rossi and Moretti families sat across from one another like predators circling prey. Gold chandeliers threw fractured light on their faces—half fury, half fear. The whispers in the room rose like smoke: Who had sent the assassins? Was the attack proof of betrayal?Adriana stood at the center, the lioness forced into the arena. Her father’s hand gripped her shoulder like an iron chain, his

The dungeon reeked of damp stone and rusted iron. Every drip of water that fell from the ceiling sounded like the tick of a clock counting down Adriana’s fate.Her wrists ached where the shackles bit into her skin. Her silk gown was torn from the struggle, streaked with blood where the dagger had kissed her throat the night before. Yet she sat upright, her chin lifted.They want to see me broken, she thought. But I am still a Rossi. I will not kneel.Then came the sound—soft, deliberate footsteps echoing against the stone. Too light to be a guard. Too confident to be her father.And when the door creaked open, you could almost feel the air shift.Isabella glided inside, carrying a lantern that threw long shadows across the walls. She wore no crown, no jewels—just a simple dress that made her beauty seem sharper, more dangerous.Her lips curled into a smile. “Oh, Adriana. You poor thing. How quickly the lioness finds herself caged.”Adriana’s jaw tightened. “Come to gloat?”“Come to co

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, laughter, and the clink of crystal. To anyone watching, Damian Moretti looked like a king among wolves — black suit tailored to perfection, silver cufflinks catching the light, his hand resting lightly at the small of Isabella Rossi’s back.To everyone but him, it was a scene of triumph.To Damian, it was a cage.“Smile,” Isabella whispered, her ruby lips brushing the edge of his ear as she leaned close enough to look intimate. “They’re watching.”Damian’s jaw tightened. He forced a half-smile for the benefit of the room, but his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a ghost.Adriana.He couldn’t stop picturing her — not in a gown, not free, but shackled in some dungeon under her father’s watch. Her hair matted, her lips split. And all the while, Isabella stood here beside him, wearing victory like perfume.“Stop looking for her,” Isabella purred, pressing her hand to his chest as though she could read his thoughts. “She’s gone, Damian. She was

The night was heavy, oppressive. Storm clouds gathered over the city like vultures circling a carcass, waiting for the moment when all defenses crumbled.For Damian Moretti and Adriana Rossi, that moment was now.Damian sat in his office, shirt discarded, his arm bound in bloodstained gauze. The ambush had left him scarred, both in body and in spirit. A bottle of whiskey stood half-empty on the desk, next to a map littered with pins marking enemy movements.He should have been planning. Plotting. Leading.Instead, he stared at the wall, at the reflection of his own failure in the glass window.The words of the shadowy figure echoed in his head: She’s closer than you think. You’ll find her in blood and chains.Adriana.Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her — chained, broken, whispering his name. His rage threatened to consume him, but so did his doubt.“Damian?” A voice cut through his thoughts. His cousin Marco stepped into the room, face grave. “Your men are restless. They see yo