UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Luca’s POVThe chamber’s walls trembled with the distant shockwaves of the Nevada test shot, dust sifting from the ceiling like gray snow. Viktor’s men had us boxed in—twenty Bratva soldiers, rifles trained, the bear himself blocking the only exit. Sofia stood beside him now, wrists uncuffed, her expression a mask of calculated calm. The kill switch in my hands beeped faster—red light pulsing like a dying heart. Dante and Rocco pressed against me on either side, their bodies heat and muscle, a living shield. The erotic tension between us three hadn’t faded; if anything, the threat of annihilation sharpened it into something desperate, almost feral.Viktor stepped forward, boots echoing on concrete. “The codes are mine. The nukes are armed. But before I launch the full strike—before Moscow burns and the world bows—let us finish the story. Alexei’s family ties. And my gulag truth.”His voice dropped, thick with Siberian frost. “Alexei Volkov was my father. Not in name—never in name. Bor

Luca’s POVThe compound’s central hall had become a slaughterhouse—bodies strewn across marble, blood pooling in the cracks of old Moretti tiles. Sofia stood amid the carnage, gun still smoking in her hand, the kill switch crushed beneath her heel. Enzo De Luca leaned against a pillar nearby, arms crossed, his Sicilian enforcers forming a loose circle around us. Dante and Rocco flanked me—guns raised, bodies tense, their heat pressing against me like a promise. The erotic tension between us hadn’t cooled; if anything, the violence had stoked it, turning every shared glance into a spark, every brush of skin into fire.Sofia’s eyes locked on mine—cold, triumphant. “You felt it, didn’t you? The legacy. The blood calling. You’re Volkov, Luca. Alexei’s true heir. The accountant who sees the numbers no one else can. The one who can control the empire he built.”I stared at her, the weight of it crashing down. The Volkov legacy wasn’t just money or power—it was a web of shadows stretching ba

Luca’s POV The chamber doors burst open in a hail of splinters and smoke, Chen’s tac team flooding in like a black wave crashing over the remnants of the standoff. Flashbangs popped, blinding white bursts that lit the room in strobe, turning the gunfire into a chaotic symphony. Sofia and Enzo dove for cover behind overturned tables, their enforcers returning fire with desperate precision. Viktor’s body lay still now, the final shot from his own gun having grazed Enzo’s shoulder before a KGB ghost dropped him for good. Dante, Rocco, and I huddled behind a bullet-riddled pillar, breaths syncing in the haze, bodies pressed close—Dante’s hand on my waist, Rocco’s thigh against mine. The erotic tension between us hadn’t dimmed; if anything, the gunfire amplified it, turning every shared glance into a spark, every brush of skin into a promise of more. Chen strode through the melee like a storm incarnate, her morally gray eyes scanning the room with predatory focus. She barked orders over

Luca’s POV Berlin-Tegel lay silent under a slate-gray dawn, the abandoned terminal buildings hulking like forgotten monuments to a divided city. The private hangar we’d taxied into was cold and cavernous—echoes of dripping water and distant traffic the only sounds. Chen waited at the far end, coat flapping in the draft from the open bay doors, her tac team forming a loose semicircle behind her. Sofia stood beside her—not cuffed, not restrained—her expression calm, almost serene. Enzo was absent; his absence felt like a missing tooth, sharp and noticeable. Dante stepped off the jet first, gun loose at his side but ready. Rocco followed, positioning himself between me and the feds. I came last—heart hammering, the weight of the Volkov legacy pressing down like gravity. The Berlin hub was close; I could feel it in my bones, the numbers stirring in my mind like ghosts waking up. Chen raised a hand—stop. Her team lowered rifles fractionally. “No need for more bloodshed,” she called. “

Luca’s POVThe Berlin hub’s central chamber was colder than the grave steel walls humming with the low throb of servers, blue light from the retinal scanner pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark. The door had sealed behind me with a pneumatic hiss, locks engaging with finality. Eighteen hours had shrunk to sixteen; the self-destruct countdown ticked in the corner of my vision projected on the wall in cold red numerals. I stood alone before the scanner, the weight of the Volkov legacy pressing down like gravity. Dante and Rocco were outside banging on the door, voices muffled through the steel but they couldn’t reach me. Not yet.The scanner’s voice Alexei’s recorded baritone echoed again: “Retinal scan required for full activation. One heir. One legacy. Failure to comply triggers purge. Sixteen hours remaining.”I stepped forward. The blue light flared brighter, a cold beam sweeping across my face. I forced myself to hold still eyes wide, unblinking as the machine mapped my retinas. A