Todos los capítulos de Master of Her Sins: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 118

AvelineTHE SUBTERRANEAN bunker was cool, quiet, and dimly lit by orange emergency strips along the concrete walls.Far above us, the reinforced ceiling trembled with the distant rumble of Villa Vance burning.Inside the vault, however, everything was strangely still. The air smelled of rubbing alcohol, sterile supplies, and fresh copper from the blood staining Alejandro’s skin.He sat on the edge of a military cot, his dark navy shirt discarded on the concrete floor. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, covered in soot and sweat.Several pieces of glass and shrapnel were embedded along his left shoulder and ribs, each wound bleeding steadily.I knelt between his knees with a pair of sterile tweezers and a roll of gauze.“This is going to sting, my love,” I whispered.Alejandro reached down and cupped my cheek, wiping a streak of soot from my skin with his thumb. Despite the wounds across his

AvelineThe safehouse high in the Swiss Alps was silent except for the low crackle of wood burning in the stone fireplace.Outside, thick snow drifted down against the heavy glass windows, insulating the secluded cabin from the rest of the world.Inside, the room smelled of dry timber, pine, and lingering smoke.I sat on the edge of the large plush sofa, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, wearing a thick wool sweater and dark leggings.My hands wrapped around a glass of water, but I couldn't bring myself to drink.Alejandro stood near the fireplace, his back turned to me. His dark navy shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the fresh white bandages wrapping his ribs and shoulder. He stared into the dancing flames, his broad shoulders stiff, his body rigid as stone.He hadn't spoken a single word to me during the two-hour drive from the estate ruins to the mountains.The silence between us was heavier than any ocean,

SebThe high-ceilinged study of the Villa d’Este on Lake Como felt like an ornate marble tomb.Outside the heavy arched windows, a dense gray mist hung over the still, dark water.Inside, the quiet was broken only by the crackle of a dying log in the stone fireplace and the soft, steady scratch of my pen against thick parchment.I sat behind a heavy walnut desk, reviewing the financial transfers from our newly acquired Southern shipping routes.Don Bernardo was locked in the basement vault in Naples. His capos were either dead or working for my private payroll.The entire Southern territory was now under my direct control.Yet, I felt no victory. I felt no peace.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Belarina standing on the marble stairs of the burning villa in Geneva, pointing a pistol straight at my chest.I heard her sweet, steady voice telling me she loved Alejandro Vance with her entire soul.

AvelineTHE GRAND ballroom of the Villa d’Este on Lake Como was a sea of glittering crystal chandeliers, gilded arches, and towering floral arrangements of white orchids.Classical violin music floated gracefully over the hum of low conversation from Europe’s most powerful corporate elites, diplomats, and high-society figures.Through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, the dark, calm waters of Lake Como reflected the warm terrace lights, creating an illusion of peaceful elegance.Underneath the glamour, the air was sharp with lethal tension.Every waiter carrying silver champagne trays was a trained security operative. Every discreetly placed guard along the perimeter balconies carried suppressed firearms beneath their tailored tuxedos.Alejandro and I had arrived in Northern Italy under absolute secrecy four hours ago.By hosting this exclusive, high-society maritime summit, publicizing our presenc