Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 40

Luca’s POVThe chamber reeked of cordite and blood, Viktor’s massive body slumped against the wall, his chest rising in shallow, gurgling breaths as Sofia’s knife protruded from his heart. The kill switch lay dark in my hand, the nukes disarmed—for now. Dante and Rocco stood beside me, their bodies a wall of heat and muscle, breaths syncing with mine in the aftermath of our frantic disarmament. Sofia watched us from across the room, her KGB ghosts holding back, rifles lowered but ready. The air crackled—not just with the threat of violence, but with the unspoken erotic charge between us three. Dante’s hand lingered on my lower back, fingers pressing into the bruises from our earlier union; Rocco’s thigh brushed mine, a silent reminder of his claim. The intensity hadn’t faded; if anything, the near-apocalypse had sharpened it, turning every glance, every touch, into foreplay laced with danger.Sofia stepped over Viktor’s body, wiping the knife clean on her sleeve. “You did it. The swit

Luca’s POVThe compound’s central hall had transformed into a slaughterhouse in minutes. Marble floors slick with blood, the air thick with cordite and the copper tang of death. Bodies lay sprawled in unnatural angles—Sofia’s KGB ghosts in black tactical gear, their eyes open and empty; Enzo’s Sicilian enforcers crumpled beside them, red silk ties soaked dark. Viktor Kuznetsov remained slumped against the far wall, the knife still buried to the hilt in his chest, his massive frame finally still, blue eyes staring at nothing. The kill switch lay shattered at Sofia’s feet, its red light extinguished, the countdown silenced. But the silence felt wrong—too heavy, too expectant.Dante’s arm was locked around my waist, his body a shield of heat and muscle. Rocco pressed against my other side, his scarred hand resting possessively on my hip, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of my torn pants. The erotic tension between us three hadn’t faded in the chaos; if anything, the

Luca’s POVThe private jet cut through the pre-dawn sky over the Atlantic, engines a low growl beneath the cabin’s tense silence. We had commandeered it from the compound’s hangar in the final minutes of chaos Dante hot-wiring the controls while Rocco dragged me aboard, both of them covered in blood and soot. Sofia and Enzo had vanished in the smoke of the firefight, Chen’s tac team too occupied with securing the remaining ghosts and Viktor’s corpse to pursue immediately. The kill switch was gone smashed, useless but the Berlin hub was still live. Twenty-three hours remained before self-destruct. Twenty-three hours before the Volkov legacy erased itself forever.Dante sat across from me, shirt torn open, fresh bandages wrapped around a graze on his ribs. Rocco sprawled beside him, one arm slung over the back of the seat, fingers brushing Dante’s shoulder in a casual claim that made my stomach tighten. The three of us triad, survivors, lovers shared the cabin like a den. The erotic ten

Luca’s POVThe Berlin hub’s entrance was a nondescript manhole cover in the east wing’s abandoned terminal, rusted and forgotten amid weeds and cracked concrete. Dante pried it open with a crowbar from the jet’s toolkit, the metal groaning like a protest from the past. Rocco went down first ladder rungs creaking under his weight his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness below. Dante followed, then me, the cold air rushing up like a breath from a grave. The descent was endless, the erotic tension between us simmering in the confined space Dante’s hand brushing my ass as he steadied me, Rocco’s voice echoing up with a low, possessive growl: “Careful, accountant. We need you intact.”At the bottom, a corridor stretched into gloom concrete walls etched with old Stasi graffiti, flickering fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The hub’s nerve center hummed faintly ahead, servers whirring like distant thunder. But Chen’s words from the hangar echoed in my mind: I’m your cousin. Volkov

Luca’s POVThe Berlin hub’s central vault was a chamber of cold precision steel walls lined with humming servers, holographic displays flickering to life with streams of data: account ledgers scrolling in endless cascades, agent profiles popping up in encrypted bursts, poison formulas rendering in 3D models. The retinal scan had unlocked it all the Volkov legacy pouring into my mind like a flood of numbers and names. But the countdown on the wall still ticked: fifteen hours, fifty-nine minutes. The hub wasn’t fully mine yet. The “blood sacrifice” protocol hung unfinished, the small slot on the scanner waiting for the DNA drop. Sofia’s words echoed: It was never about rebuilding. It was about ending it.Outside the vault door, muffled gunfire and shouts Dante and Rocco fighting to reach me. The door’s locks held reinforced steel, designed for sieges. I pounded on the panel, but it didn’t budge. The hub’s AI voice chimed again: “Protocol incomplete. Purge imminent unless secondary linea