Chapter 15 veins of betrayal
924 Words
The underground bar pulsed with smoke, low lights, and the heavy scent of whiskey and secrets.
Bianca Rosetti sipped her drink at the far end of the leather booth, legs crossed, crimson lips curled in quiet satisfaction.
The Moretti estate was bleeding, metaphorically for now—but cracks had formed.
And cracks were how empires collapsed.
Across from her sat Matteo Rosetti, her half-brother and the architect of tonight’s chaos, his eyes gleaming with cold ambition.
“Your little stunt failed,” Bianca said, voice smooth as silk but sharp enough to draw blood.
Matteo shrugged, unbothered. “It wasn’t about winning. It was about rattling the cage.”
Bianca swirled her glass, eyes narrowing. “Careful, fratello. You rattle cages long enough, eventually something bites.”
A third figure slid into the booth’s shadows — lean, sharp-featured, eyes dark with dangerous secrets.
Elijah.
Ex-Moretti soldier. Traitor. And Bianca’s latest weapon.
“Elijah,” Bianca greeted, smile wicked. “Tell me you’ve got good news.”
Elijah’s lips curved faintly. “Moretti’s distracted. His pet assassin’s sniffing around your brother. Aria Leone is closer to breaking than anyone thinks.”
Bianca’s eyes glinted, pulse sharpening. “Perfect.”
Matteo exhaled smoke, voice bored. “You really think this girl’s the key?”
“She’s not just the key,” Bianca corrected, her tone dripping venom. “She’s the fuse.”
And when Aria snapped, when Moretti’s empire fractured—the throne would be empty.
And Bianca intended to burn whoever was left standing.
Bianca’s laughter echoed off the dark walls, low and lethal.
She leaned back in her seat, the plan unfolding with clinical precision. The Morettis wouldn’t see it coming. They never f*****g did — arrogance made even kings blind.
“Get it done,” Bianca ordered, finishing her drink with a snap of her fingers. Elijah disappeared into the shadows, already moving to sow the next fracture.
But across the city, another fracture was forming.
Moretti Estate — Private Courtyard
Niccolo exhaled smoke into the cool night air, boots propped on the stone ledge, watching the estate walls hum with paranoia.
Security tripled. Cameras everywhere. But walls didn’t keep betrayal out — not when the real cracks ran from within.
The bastard knew it, too.
Luca approached from the far path, expression tight, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
“You’re still here?” Luca muttered, irritation threading his tone. “f*****g great.”
Niccolo grinned, all teeth, dragging on his cigarette. “Miss me that much?”
Luca didn’t answer — just shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, tension radiating off him.
“Rosetti’s regrouping. Bianca’s involved,” Luca informed him, voice clipped.
Niccolo’s smirk widened. “Yeah, no shit.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing both sides again, Nic?”
A beat of silence.
Then Niccolo rose, smoke curling around him, voice dropping low and sharp.
“I’m playing my side,” Niccolo corrected, stepping closer, his silver eyes glittering. “Same as always.”
“Don’t f**k this up,” Luca warned, tension crackling.
Niccolo’s grin darkened, dangerous. “Already too late for that, brother.”
And beneath the estate’s marble facade, cracks widened — inevitable, bleeding through.
Because loyalty?
That s**t was always for sale
The estate’s halls were too quiet.
Aria moved through the darkened corridors, every instinct buzzing under her skin. Too many eyes. Too many shadows. And Dante — keeping her locked in this gilded cage like she was some pawn on his f*****g chessboard.
She wasn’t a pawn.
But the lines blurred more every goddamn second she stayed here.
Her fingers traced the scar along her side — a fresh reminder of how easily control slipped away in this world of power and blood.
A low voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Couldn’t sleep, bella?”
Aria stiffened, turning to find Dante leaning against the wall behind her, half in shadows, dark eyes unreadable.
“Didn’t realize I needed your permission for that too,” she shot back, folding her arms.
Dante’s lips curved faintly — not a smile, something colder, sharper.
“Watch that mouth,” he warned softly, stepping closer, his voice rough with unspoken tension. “You’re already dangerous enough.”
The air tightened as he approached, heat simmering beneath the controlled menace in his eyes.
“You planning to lock me in a tower next?” Aria taunted, pulse spiking despite herself.
Dante stopped inches from her, gaze raking over her face, voice low and deadly.
“If I thought it’d keep you safe, I f*****g would.”
A beat.
The words landed heavier than either expected.
Her heart stumbled, but she shoved the weakness down, glaring up at him.
“You don’t get to care,” she snapped, breath catching at how close he stood. “Not when I’m your prisoner.”
“You’re not my prisoner,” Dante corrected, voice like gravel, dark eyes burning into hers. “You’re my problem. Big difference.”
Silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid — betrayal, attraction, fractured trust.
For one reckless heartbeat, his hand lifted, knuckles brushing her jaw, rough and calloused.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
But f**k, the space between them cracked wide open.
Dante’s voice dropped, raw, dangerous. “Don’t make me choose between you and this war, Aria.”
Her pulse hammered, defiance coiling beneath the fear.
“Maybe you already have.”
And with that, she turned, walking away before he could see how badly her hands shook.
The storm wasn’t over.
It was just getting started.
- Writer
