Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

Chapter 11: Retaliation Hit (Luca’s POV)The rain started as we rolled out of the warehouse hard sheets slamming the SUV roof like gunfire. Enzo drove, I rode shotgun, Alessio in the back with two of my best men. No one spoke. The plan was simple: hit one of the Irish crew’s stash houses in Queens. In and out. Message sent. No survivors to talk.Alessio hadn’t said a word since the warehouse. He sat quietly, staring out the window, fingers drumming on his knee. I kept glancing back in the rearview. His face was calm too calm. Like he’d already decided something.“You sure about this?” I asked low, when the others were focused on the road.He met my eyes in the mirror. “You asked if I was in it. I said yes.”“This isn’t painting or club openings. It’s blood.”“I know.” His voice was steady. “I’ve seen blood before. Just not… yours.”The words landed heavier than I expected.We parked two blocks away, hoods up against the rain. The target was a rundown auto shop front looked legit, bac

Chapter 13: Counterstrike Planning(Luca’s POV)The penthouse felt smaller with the threat hanging over us—like the walls were closing in.I paced the living room while Alessio sat on the couch, legs crossed, staring at the photo on his phone again. The unknown number had gone silent after the last message, but the damage was done. They knew where we’d been. They knew Alessio was with me. And they’d made it personal.Enzo arrived twenty minutes later, rain-soaked, carrying a laptop and a file folder thick with printouts.“Got intel,” he said, dropping everything on the coffee table. “The photo was taken from a rooftop across the street—professional surveillance. Irish have a new player running point: Declan O’Malley. Ex-SAS, ruthless, doesn’t leave loose ends.”Alessio looked up. “So they’re not just thugs anymore.”Enzo nodded. “O’Malley’s been building alliances—small crews, mercenaries. He wants our territory. The alliance marriage pissed him off; he sees it as weakness.”I stoppe

Chapter 15: Lockdown & Reassurance (Luca’s POV)The penthouse felt like a fortress and a cage at the same time.We’d been back less than an hour. Security team swept every inch—cameras, motion sensors, new locks on every door and window. Enzo personally checked the bedroom, the balcony, even the vents. No bugs. No hidden cameras. Whoever filmed us last night had been careful—too careful. They’d been inside before we locked down.I stood in the living room, arms crossed, watching the city through the glass. Rain still fell in heavy sheets, blurring the lights. Alessio sat on the couch behind me, knees drawn up, still in my shirt from this morning. He hadn’t spoken much since the video.I hated the silence.I turned. “You’re quiet.”He looked up. Eyes tired, but not scared. “Thinking.”“About?”“How close they got.” He unfolded his legs, stood, walked over. “They were here. In our bed. Watching us sleep.”My stomach twisted. I pulled him against me without thinking—arms tight around his

Chapter 17: Bronx Grab (Luca’s POV)The Bronx warehouse district smelled like wet concrete, diesel, and bad decisions.We rolled in two unmarked vans—lights off, windows tinted black. Rain had finally stopped, leaving everything slick and reflective under the sodium streetlamps. Enzo parked us a block away from the target building: a low brick structure labeled “Storage & Logistics,” windows boarded, one flickering security light over the side door.O’Malley’s lieutenant—Sean “Razor” Kelly—was supposed to meet a supplier here in fifteen minutes. If the intel held, we’d grab him alive, squeeze him for O’Malley’s location, and end this tonight.I glanced at Alessio in the back seat. Black hoodie up, vest hidden underneath, gun holstered at his hip. His face was calm—too calm again. I didn’t like it.“Stay on comms,” I told him for the third time. “You don’t move until I say.”He gave me a small, tight smile. “I remember the rules, husband.”Enzo turned from the driver’s seat. “Two of o

Chapter 19: Traitor’s Reveal(Luca’s POV)The van smelled like gunpowder, wet leather, and barely contained rage.We were back on the move—three vehicles now, splitting routes to confuse any tail. Razor Kelly was zip-tied in the back of the second van with two of my men. He hadn’t said another word after the video call taunt, but his smirk hadn’t faded either. I wanted to wipe it off his face with my fist. Later.Alessio sat beside me in the lead SUV, silent, staring straight ahead. His hands were steady on his knees, but I could see the faint tremor in his fingers. The studio destruction had hit him harder than any bullet could. I reached over, covered his hand with mine.He turned his palm up, laced our fingers together without looking at me.“We’ll rebuild it,” I said quietly. “Every canvas. Every color. I’ll buy you the best supplies money can buy.”Alessio gave a small, tight laugh. “It’s not about the money.”“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “But we start there. Then we paint over