The Vault of Sin のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The rain in Chicago didn't wash things clean; it just turned the city's secrets into a gray, freezing sludge.I stood in the shadowed hallway of a tenement building that smelled of damp rot and forgotten lives. My hand was steady on the grip of my suppressed Beretta, the cold steel a familiar weight against my palm. For six months, I had been hunted by a ghost. Someone had systematically bled the Cavallo "black" accounts—money that didn't exist on paper, but fueled the very heart of my family’s power.Four million dollars. All of it funneled into failing clinics, crumbling orphanages, and the bank accounts of widows whose husbands had died in my service.I expected a professional. A mercenary. A man with the balls to look a Don in the eye while he robbed him blind."Go," I breathed.The door didn't stand a chance. My lead enforcer, Marco, put his shoulder into the wood, and we surged into the room like a localized hurricane. My weapon was up, the red laser dot dancing across the peeli

Jade's POV The door clicked shut with a heavy, final sound that echoed through the room like a gavel hitting a block. Guilty.I stood in the center of the plush Persian rug, my hands shoved so deep into the pockets of my oversized hoodie that the fabric strained. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I waited for the sound of retreating footsteps, for the muffled Italian murmurs of the guards to fade into the background noise of the estate.This wasn't a prison cell. It was a five-star hotel suite trapped in a fortress. The bed was a mountain of white silk and down, the heavy velvet curtains were drawn tight against the Chicago night, and the air smelled of expensive sandalwood and the cold, metallic scent of absolute power.I walked to the window and pulled the curtain back just a fraction of an inch. Below, the sprawling lawn was washed in the harsh white light of security floods. Two men in charcoal-gray suits walked the perimeter, the silhouettes of their holstered weapons unmistakabl

Jade's POV The air in the room changed the second Enzo roared for Marco. It wasn’t just the volume; it was the sheer, tectonic shift of his authority. One moment he was a man on the edge of a breakdown, and the next, he was a commander again.I stayed pressed against the cold wall, my fingers still curled around the metal nail file. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, but I forced my expression to remain flat. I couldn't let him see how much his proximity affected me. He was too large for this room, too vibrant, smelling of expensive rain and the bitter, dark scent of the coffee he’d just been drinking."Wait outside," Enzo commanded as Marco entered, carrying a sleek, silver briefcase.The door clicked shut. Now, it was just us. The Don and the Ghost.He took the briefcase and slammed it onto the antique oak desk. With a flick of his wrists, he popped the latches. Inside sat a top-of-the-line Alienware terminal, its matte black surface mocking the 18th-century furni

Jade's POV The library was a cathedral of paper and silence. Towering shelves of dark mahogany reached toward a frescoed ceiling, housing thousands of leather-bound volumes that smelled of vanilla and aging history. It was the only room in the estate that didn't feel like a high-tech bunker, yet even here, I was followed.Marco stood ten paces behind me, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the room as if a hitman might jump out from behind a first edition of The Divine Comedy.I didn't care. For the first time in forty-eight hours, I could breathe. I pulled a book at random—some dry treatise on Roman law—and sat in a velvet armchair, but I wasn't reading. My mind was still back in the North Suite, replaying the way Enzo had looked at me when I gave him the names of the traitors.He hadn’t thanked me. He had simply... hardened. Like liquid steel hitting ice."The Don is ready for you," Marco said, his gravelly voice shattering my thoughts.I stood up, smoothing th

Enzo's POV The black Maybach glided through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago like a shark through dark water. Inside, the silence was heavy, charged with a static electricity that had nothing to do with the looming storm.I sat back in the leather seat, my eyes fixed on Jade. She was staring out the window, her profile sharp and elegant against the blurring city lights. The red silk of her dress clung to her in a way that made it difficult for me to remember my own rules. She looked like a queen, but the way she kept picking at the hem of her skirt told me the Ghost was still shivering underneath the glamour."Stop that," I said, my voice low.She jumped slightly, her amber eyes snapping to mine. "Stop what?""Fidgeting. You’re wearing five thousand dollars of silk and a ruby that could buy a city block. Act like you own the air you’re breathing."Jade let out a short, sharp breath—a laugh that lacked any mirth. "I don't own the air, Enzo. I’m just borrowing it from you. Isn't