Semua Bab The Silence Of His Vows: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The cold was not just in the air; it came from the stone. It rose from the massive, polished marble floor, climbed the high velvet curtains, and settled deep into Luna Vitiello’s bones. This chill was the permanent temperature of extreme wealth, of absolute power, and of lifelong, crushing fear. This house was a prison built entirely of expensive silence.Luna stood perfectly still near the bottom of the grand staircase, her back pressed flat against the cool wall, trying to make her small body disappear into the fancy carvings and intricate decorations. Her body was tuned to the strict, unspoken rules of survival here: stillness was safety, and any quick movement drew attention, and attention brought the harsh scrutiny she desperately avoided. At nineteen, her posture was one of chronic, painful apprehension.Her face, untouched by the hard, knowing look of most women her age, was hidden behind a passive resignation. Her skin was pale, stretched delicately over soft, rounded features

The relative quiet of the afternoon was shattered not by an explosion, but by a sudden, brutal disruption of the atmosphere. Luna was seated in the library, a vast, imposing room where the thick walls usually offered a deceptive sense of insulation. Rocco Santini, her primary, trusted bodyguard, stood near the towering arched doorway, his posture rigid, his loyalty a fragile barrier between her and the volatile world outside.The quiet routine was suddenly poisoned. The low hum of the city traffic, usually a constant background drone, abruptly stopped. Rocco felt the shift instantly. His body tensed, the subtle movement the only warning Luna received. His hand dropped to grip the sidearm holstered beneath his jacket.Luna felt the change physically, a prickling coldness that traveled from her scalp down her spine. The fear was immediate and absolute. Her mind screamed Something is wrong! but the paralyzing grip of her trauma was already closing off her response. She remained frozen in

The hours following the arrival of Damon Volkov did not pass; they dragged, thick with a suffocating, static tension that settled deep into the house’s foundation. Luna retreated to her suite, a secured space that now felt less like a refuge and more like an observation deck for her new, terrifying warden. Every action she took, every shallow breath, every subtle shift in position, felt scrutinized by the shadow cast over the house.She knew Volkov was not physically in the room, he was likely sequestered in a monitoring station, but the weight of his presence was an oppressive, palpable thing. She could feel the chilling reach of his authority extending through the walls. She imagined his dark, smoke-colored eyes fixed on the monitors, analyzing her fear, cataloging her every subtle physical sign of distress. He was profiling her vulnerability with cold, professional curiosity.A faint sound caused her to freeze. It was the click of a door closing down the hall, followed by two sets

The house had become a mechanism governed by the invisible, oppressive weight of Damon Volkov. For Luna, the psychological torment was absolute. She existed in a state of perpetually suspended breath, every moment dedicated to anticipating the next subtle movement from the man who tracked her shadows.She sought refuge in the damaged library, where the scars of the recent attack were still visible. Luna sat at the repaired desk, her small, trembling hand resting on the smooth wood. The protector was stationed in the wide, marble corridor just outside the threshold. His physical absence allowed her a sliver of false privacy, yet the knowledge of his unwavering proximity was a crushing weight.The atmosphere tightened with malicious intent when Dante Bellomo walked into the library, his step casual but his eyes sharp and assessing. He seemed annoyed by Volkov's efficient but unconventional surveillance methods."No shadow today, Luna?" Dante's voice was a low purr of malice. He walked d

The suffocating atmosphere of the Vitiello mansion had metastasized, transforming from a gilded prison into a pressure cooker. The tension no longer came from the external threats the Don feared, but from the internal, unspoken war waged between the men within the walls, with Luna trapped precisely in the middle. Damon Volkov's presence had been established as an absolute, cold force, but absolute forces attract equal and opposite resistance.Dante Bellomo, the Don's calculating right-hand man, was Volkov's immovable obstacle. His resentment had curdled into a dangerous game. Since Volkov's arrival, Dante had been checked, subtly, silently, yet humiliatingly, three times. He viewed Luna not merely as a prize, but as the weakest point in Volkov's rigid armor, and he was determined to prove that the new protector's cold protocol could not withstand the heat of true, insidious cruelty.The confrontation was staged, not in a grand hall, but in the sterile quiet of the mansion's secondary