Semua Bab Silenced By The Billionaire : Bab 31 - Bab 40

POV: MarcoI was drowning in my own loyalty.The underground safe house corridors felt narrower every time I walked them. The reinforced concrete walls seemed to press inward with every passing hour, trapping all of us inside Dante’s growing paranoia. The low hum of the ventilation system never stopped. Neither did the cameras.Nothing ever truly slept down here.Not the guards.Not the fear.And definitely not Dante Moretti.I moved through the dim corridor slowly, hands in the pockets of my dark coat, expression carefully blank as two armed men passed me near the security checkpoint. They nodded respectfully.“Marco.”“Evening.”Simple and normal.Like I wasn’t carrying enough secrets to get myself executed ten times over.The weight of twelve years of service pressed down on my shoulders like concrete. I had followed Dante through blood, fire, war, and betrayal. I had watched him build an empire from the ashes of his family’s murder. I had stood beside him while he destroyed anyone

POV: DanteThe underground safe house was supposed to be our fortress.Instead, it was starting to feel like a trap.The deeper underground we went, the more the walls seemed to close in around us. The reinforced steel doors. The endless concrete corridors. The artificial lighting that never truly dimmed. Everything about this place was designed for protection.For control.But lately, even control felt fragile.I stood near the far side of the main living area, watching silent security footage scroll across the massive monitors built into the wall. Camera feeds flickered one after another, hallways, checkpoints, armories, elevators, tunnel access points.Nothing looked wrong.That was the problem.Because Isabella never struck where you expected.My gaze shifted away from the screens and settled on Elara.She sat curled into the corner of the black leather sofa with one leg tucked beneath her, sketchbook balanced against her knee. A soft lamp illuminated the concentrated expression o

POV: DanteThe underground meeting room felt too small for the weight of the decision I was about to make.Cold white lights reflected off the steel table between us, casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls. Armed guards stood near the exits, silent and tense, their hands close to concealed weapons. Nobody trusted this meeting.Least of all me.Victor Kane sat across from me like he owned the place, even though he was deep inside Moretti territory.The leader of the Kane Syndicate looked exactly like the rumors described him, broad shoulders, expensive black suit, sharp features carved with age and violence. His cold blue eyes scanned everything constantly, calculating exits, weaknesses, opportunities.Predator recognizing predator.Until today, our empires had existed in careful balance. We controlled different territories, different ports, different blood routes through the city.We had crossed paths, threatened each other, tested boundaries.But never gone to war.Today, th

POV: DanteThe wait for Victor’s strike team was pure torture.The reinforced strategy room felt colder as usual, the concrete walls trapping every ounce of tension until it became almost suffocating. The low mechanical hum of the underground ventilation system echoed through the room in an endless drone that scraped against my nerves.I paced like a caged animal.Back and forth.Again, again and again.Every passing second felt like another knife slowly twisting deeper into my chest.Somewhere out there, Adrian was still alive.Which meant Isabella was still working on him.Still breaking him down piece by piece.I had forced Elara back to our quarters nearly an hour ago after she overheard too much of the operational timeline. She had argued at first quietly, stubbornly insisting she could help somehow. But exhaustion had finally dragged her under once I held her long enough for her breathing to slow against my chest.She was asleep now.At least physically.I doubted either of us

POV: DanteThe final door exploded off its hinges as I kicked it open, gun raised, heart pounding with lethal focus.I expected blood. I expected an execution squad. I expected to see Adrian on his knees with a gun to his head, Isabella standing over him with that triumphant smile.Instead, I stepped into a nightmare dressed as a civilized room. The room smelled of lavender and sterile alcohol, a sickeningly sweet combination that made my stomach turn. There were no chains. No iron restraints. A leather armchair sat in the center of the space beneath the soft amber glow of a designer floor lamp. The space looked like a private medical suite, clean white walls, monitoring equipment beeping softly, soft lighting that felt obscene in this context. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive perfume. A tray of untouched food sat on a side table beside crystal-clear water glasses, as though this were some twisted hotel suite instead of a hostage site.Dr. Adrian Hale sat in a chai