Novel & Cerita Crimson Road

“Then it’s not just showing me what’s happened. It’s showing me what will.” Theo reached beside the table again and pulled out a second item from the leather folder. It was slim, bound in deep red linen, the corners worn with time. He hesitated before handing it to her. Her breath caught the moment she saw the title: The Crimson Letter By Isla Ward She stared at it, her hand hovering. “Where did you get this?” “I found it last year,” Theo said quietly. “Tucked behind the books in the library’s upper shelf. I didn’t know what it was at first. Just that it felt… wrong.”

“We are outnumbered. This is not a fight to pick. Not today.” I let Jamerson lead me away and I mount my bike again, throwing the fake brick at Crane and narrowly missing his head, “This isn’t over, you owe us!” I snarl his way, pointing at him. I was reluctant to leave, wanting my pound of flesh. The cheek and nerve of him trying to pull a fast one on us. Well, he had. We were walking away with cash. No gold as promised. Halfway down the road, after we pass the invisible line of Crimson Moon territory, I pull off to the side. Not even telling Jamerson, who turns his bike around and parks up next to me letting the engine idle.

A breathtaking place like a king's palace, a gold gate, and a vast expanse of flowers and tall trees surrounding the inner side of the estate wall. Her feet moved with awe and fear, her steps slowing as she approached the mansion's main door as if it were a monster that would swallow her. She entered the mansion with her mother—a vast, frightening space and opulence that took one's breath away. A middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair interspersed with a few gray strands stood there. It was Chris Myers, the richest man in America. He buttoned his suit jacket and extended his hand to Lila with a friendly smile.

He asked and I nodded. The engine roared to life, and soon we were driving down the dirt path that led away from Crimson Pack. The trees grew denser the farther we went, their towering trunks casting long shadows across the narrow road. For a while, neither of us spoke.. After nearly an hour, the path grew rougher. The Blue Moon pack wasn’t really far from crimson, but the forest between the two packs had always been known to be dangerous. Then… A loud pop cracked through the air, the car lurched violently to one side.

I picture him outside in the snow, coat collar up, not looking back. My chest hurts. He was supposed to protect me, not trade me like a bag of coins. I feel small, alone, cold without his hand, even if that hand only ever hurt. We stop in front of one box. A small lamp on the wall gives dim yellow light. I look at the door. My breath catches in my throat. A crest is carved deep in the wood. Black wolf. Snow around its paws. Stars above its head. The Morozov crest. Even a child knows it. Even I know it.

Selene followed seconds later, already scanning the alley with infrared. The street beyond was empty. No pedestrians. No delivery drones. No rideshare drop - offs. Just the low whine of powerlines buzzing in the background. Their car was parked tight against the alley wall. Unmarked, matte black, license plate scrambled by an onboard fuzzer. Selene unlocked it with her fingerprint, dropped into the driver’s seat, and waited one heartbeat for Aria to buckle in before launching them down the alley with barely a growl. The tires whispered against the road. The windows auto - tinted. The dash cam flipped into blackout mode. They were a ghost vehicle now — functionally invisible to commercial str

"Hostage. By The Crimson Hand." The Crimson Hand. Frank knew them. A relatively new but aggressively ambitious rival gang that had been making inroads into their city's underbelly for the past few months. They were ruthless, cunning, and fiercely loyal to their shadowy leader, a man Frank had already marked as a future problem, an encroacher whose territory lines were becoming blurred. "The Crimson Hand? What do they want with Thomas? He's a civilian, a businessman, not one of us. This doesn't make sense."

Now, I crave it. I stood in my usual spot, overlooking the garden of Tencrest. Early as could be, but it was a bustling space for the Founding Ten this time of the year. Some ate breakfast outside, others were working on some sparring in the back of the property. I couldn’t make out who it was, but Sasha stood watch over them. There were many things I disliked about the Crimson Ball each year. My space was invaded and the nonstop meetings were exhausting, but seeing the liveliness of the home brought me joy. It was limited today, but I was proud of the visual proof that the Crimson Accord did work. Today, it was needed.

__________________ **PROLOGUE** "You don't escape me, Crimson. Not in this life. Not in the next. You were mine the moment you breathed your first, and I'll carve my name into your soul until you remember it." CRIMSON 'Il Velo di MINE' [The Veil of Mine] Book 1 from 'MAFIA DARK ROMANCE MINE' series ________________________ **AUTHOR NOTES** Meet the 'Mafia Second Chance Romance MINE series' Family member's books:- Book 1: CRIMSON 'Il Velo di MINE' [The Veil of Mine] story of Azrael Sartori

The words sent a ripple of unease through the bond. Aldric straightened slightly. “We should talk to your father.” Regina nodded. She had been thinking the same thing. Because if Rafael had targeted her bloodline… Then her father might know why. ⸻ Aldric Crimson Hollow’s Alpha residence stood deep within the forest, surrounded by towering pine trees that whispered softly in the wind. The drive from the hotel had been quiet. Regina sat beside him in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on the dark road ahead while the moonlight filtered through the trees.