All Chapters of Bound to the Syndicate Boss : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Chapter 1POV - LumiereFlour could be deceiving. From a distance, it looked like snow, soft, clean, almost harmless. But after a few hours in the bakery, it got everywhere, clinging to my skin and settling into the creases of my hands.I blew a loose strand of raven-black hair away from my eyes and shifted the twenty-kilo sack of Finnish rye against my hip. My left shoulder protested immediately. The old scar beneath my collarbone gave a dull ache, like it always did when the weather changed or I pushed myself too hard. I still couldn’t remember exactly how I’d gotten it. There was only a broken piece of a childhood memory that never seemed to come together.The bell above the heavy oak door of Lumiere Bakery chimed.Cold December air rushed inside, cutting through the warmth of the bakery. I shivered as the sharp bite of Helsinki winter followed it in.“Morning Lumiere,” Matti grunted as he stepped inside, stamping his heavy boots against the welcome mat to shake off the slush. He p

Chapter 3POV: LumiereThe sharp, metallic pop of the suppressed gunshot did not just break the quiet of my bakery, it shattered the fragile, glass-walled reality I had spent a decade building. The sound echoed in my ears, vibrating through the floorboards and straight through my bones. But it was not the sight of Jarkko’s body falling that broke me. It was the sudden, violent tearing of my own mind.My breath caught painfully in my throat as the air seemed to disappear. My vision narrowed, the warm yellow lights of the bakery blurring into streaks of white and red. My knees gave out, but I never hit the ground. Strong hands caught me by the waist, holding me against a body that felt solid and immovable.Mikael.His name formed in my thoughts, but I couldn't say it. The smell of copper and woodsmoke filled the air, dragging me backward through time, stripping away Helsinki, the bakery, the flour, and the cold December night.Fire.It was everywhere. Flames tore through the grand corri

Chapter 5POV: LumiereThe grandfather clock in the corner of my apartment ticked with a heavy, mocking rhythm, counting down the seconds of the life I used to know. Outside, Helsinki snow battered the windows, howling through the darkness. But the real storm wasn't outside. It was standing right in the middle of my kitchen.The bakery was officially closed. The Open sign had been turned around hours ago, long after the police had cleared the crime scene, taken Jarkko’s body away, and cleaned the floorboards. Still, I could see the bloodstain in my mind as clearly as if it were still there.The authorities had accepted Mikael’s carefully prepared story, a random mugging by a transient. One phone call from a powerful legal team had been enough to make the local police stop asking questions.I stood beside the industrial mixer, gripping the stainless-steel edge so tightly that my knuckles had gone pale. My dyed raven hair hung loose around my shoulders, framing a face that still felt nu

Chapter 7POV: JaloThe heavy oak doors of Mikael’s private study in the Turku fortress muffled the distant roar of the Baltic waves crashing against the reinforced glass below, but they couldn't keep the tension out. It hung in the air like winter frost, thick enough to taste.I adjusted my wire-rimmed glasses, the metal cold against the bridge of my nose, and smoothed down the cuff of my charcoal wool waistcoat. On my mahogany desk sat a stack of encrypted reports, flight manifests, and regional council manifests that felt almost as heavy as a loaded weapon. Outside these walls, the Finnish criminal underworld was waking up like a nest of disturbed vipers. News of the failed ambush at the bakery had spread through our encrypted channels in less than twenty minutes. Milan’s men had tested our perimeter, and they had failed. But wolves didn't pack up and leave just because they lost a scout; they only grew bolder.And right at the center of this brewing war was a terrified, stubborn t

Chapter 9POV: MikaelThe smell of dry pipe tobacco and old cedar always hung thick in Otso Salo’s private library. It was a sharp contrast to the sterile, ozone-filled air of the main tactical sublevels. Buried deep inside the old stone foundation of the Turku estate, the room felt far removed from the digital war happening across our servers. But tonight, even the old wood and expensive cognac couldn't make me forget what was happening outside these walls.I stood beside the heavy mahogany fireplace, watching the last embers burn low while the grandfather clock in the corner counted down the minutes to dawn. My fingers were wrapped tightly around a heavy crystal glass of whiskey, but I hadn't taken a single drink.Upstairs, behind reinforced steel and surrounded by guards she hated, Lumiere was pacing around her room like a trapped animal. Her anger was so fierce I could almost feel it from where I stood.The heavy oak door creaked open.The slow tap of a polished wooden cane follow