Todos los capítulos de Blood and Oath (A Valente Dynasty Romance) Book1: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOAlexander.Later that night, when everyone was gone and the house was dark, Juliana found me in the library, sitting by the fire with a glass of whiskey and a stick of cigarette in my hand.She slipped inside quietly, curling up on the couch across from me.Finally, she broke the silence.“You killed him?”I took a slow sip of whiskey, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.“Yeah.”Her throat bobbed.“Did it feel good?”I should’ve lied.But I never lied to her.“Yes.”“You want to know how it happened?”She shook her head.“No.”My throat burned.“What do you want to know, then?”Her eyes locked on mine, soft, tired... but still so goddamn strong.“How it made you feel.”Fuck.I hadn't expected that.I took a long drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl between us.“Like I was finally making something right.”She nodded slowly, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug.“Then I’m glad you did it.”……………………………………………………………………………………..Neither of us said a wor

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURJuliana.Two weeks.That’s how long it had been since Alexander killed Philip.Since the last piece of my old life was erased.Since I stopped pretending that I wasn’t part of this world now.Two weeks since I started training harder than ever.At first, I did it to survive.Now?I loved it.I loved the way my muscles burned after hours of sparring.I loved how I could hold my own against Roman, land hits against Kai, and dodge Liam’s knife strikes.I loved the way Alexander watched me train, eyes dark, calculating, lips twitching when I got something right.But today?Something was… off.We were in the training room, sweat dripping down my back, my heart pounding against my ribs.The air was thick with sweat and determination.The sound of fists hitting punching bags, knives clashing against steel, and gunfire echoing in the background filled the training room.I was used to the pain now.The way my knuckles ached after hours of hitting the pads.The way my muscle

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXAlexander.One week.It had been one week since I found out Juliana was pregnant.One week since my world shifted forever.I had never thought about fatherhood before.Not seriously.I had spent years thinking my legacy would be my empire, my power, my name carved into the underworld.But now…Now I was making a mini version of us.A child with Juliana’s fire and my blood.I should have been terrified.And I was.But beneath that fear, beneath the doubts and the unknown, there was something else…Something I hadn’t felt in years.Hope.But as I watched Juliana sleep beside me, her breath soft and steady, my fingers resting lightly over her stomach…A different fear crept in. What if I wasn’t good enough?I had never had a good father.Mine had been a brutal, ruthless man, one who believed love was a weakness, who beat his sons into soldiers instead of raising them as children.I had spent my whole life building an empire out of his ruins.But could I be be

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTJuliana.He led me through the hallways of the house, passed the rooms I already knew, and stopped at a door I didn’t recognize.“What’s this?” I asked, tilting my head.He didn’t answer. He just smiled, that rare, secretive smile, and pushed the door open.I stepped inside… and froze.The room was huge, all light and space and warmth.Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the afternoon sun, flooding the room with soft, golden light. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with art supplies, brushes, canvases, sketchbooks, paints in every color imaginable.A large wooden easel sat in the center, positioned perfectly by the window.My throat tightened so hard it hurt.“You… you did this?” My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.Alexander stepped in behind me, his voice low and quiet.“You said you used to love painting,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. “Figured you shouldn’t have to stop.”My chest ache

CHAPTER FORTYAlexander.I didn’t realize how long I’d been standing there until I felt a hand on my arm, warm, familiar, and firm.“Basta, Alessandro.”I blinked, barely registering the sound of my old name in her voice.Sofia.She stood in front of me, her dark eyes filled with worry. She looked smaller than I remembered, older, softer, but her grip on my arm was steady, like it always was when I was a boy.“You can’t protect her if you fall apart,” she said in that thick, Italian accent, voice low and stern.“I’m fine,” I lied, my throat raw.“You’re not,” Sofia shot back, her voice sharp. “Look at you.”I didn’t want to look at myself.I didn’t want to see her blood on my hands, on my clothes.But Sofia wasn’t having it. She reached up and cupped my face, forcing me to meet her eyes.“I’ve watched you do this before,” she said softly, “with your father. He worked himself into the ground to protect what was his, and in the end, he was too weak to save it.”My chest tightened at the