Semua Bab NERO’S GAME: Bab 71 - Bab 80

CHAPTER 72: A canary singsIn the center of the dark cold dungeon sat the intruder, stripped to the waist, tied to a chair, blood dripping down his jaw where the guards had already roughened him up. Dark, angry bruises were already painting an unsightly map on his body. Yet, his eyes burned with the stubborn defiance of a man who had already resigned himself to death. The guards, however, pitied him. He was yet to face the don. They had no doubts that his bravado would give way to fear soon, and he would begin to sing like a canary.Not very long after, Nero stood before him, still wearing the black dress shirt from his meeting with Viktor. The dark coat had been flung on the table as soon as he walked in. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, his wrist gleaming with gold. The expression on his face was a mask of control, but his molten eyes were darker, glinting with fire that mirrored the storm raging inside him. He was already simmering with rage after the meeting with Vikt

CHAPTER 74: By Blood or Not“I don’t,” Olivia replied quickly, though her trembling fingers gave her away.He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like a predator humoring its prey. He liked seeing her so flustered. There was something about it that made her cuter. “Of course you don’t.” He turned toward his closet, tugging open the doors with one hand. “But still… interesting,” he added, turning immediately before she could read his eyes, and disappeared behind the doors.Finally alone again, Olivia’s shoulders sagged. She pressed her palm to her chest, her pulse unsteady, and exhaled heavily. She hated how he always twisted her words, how he could strip her bare with a single sentence, how he could easily upset and fluster her, making her a mess of tangled emotions. But the truth was there, clawing inside her chest; fear. Not just for herself, but for him. Yes, she was afraid for him. As much as she loathed it, he was the father of her child, her husband, and the thought of rais

CHAPTER 76: Your darkness will consume herNero stalked after Luigi again, his long strides relentless, and grabbed him. This time, he dragged him across the nightclub floor by his hair, pulling him over the shards of glass and debris that now littered the nightclub floor. Luigi grunted in pain, but it didn’t seem to stop his cousin. The lights overhead painted the trail in lurid color, blue, red, violet, like a sick CHAPTER 75: Club chaosThe nightclub pulsed with bass, and the low thrum of music vibrated against walls gilded with neon light, making the room shake with each beat from the music. Laughter spilled from the mouths of painted, scantily clad women draped over velvet couches, their micro dresses clinging like second skins. The hot, stuffy air smelled of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. And something darker: money, sin, and power.At the center of it all lounged Luigi. The nightclub was one of the many that he had scattered across the country. He was reclining like a king on a t

CHAPTER 78: She burns quieter, but brighter than you ever couldMarena’s gaze followed his to the open half packed suitcase. Her pulse flickered visibly at her throat, but she forced a small laugh. “Well, I was… thinking about it. Maybe France this time. Somewhere quieter. I still need to get away from here.”Nero calmly moved to the closet in unhurried measured strides, ignoring her, his hand brushing over hangers, fabrics, the scent of her perfume clinging to everything. He was searching for something. But he wouldn't ask her outrightly. Not yet.“Mmm.” His voice was quiet, cold. “France. Sounds nice.” He crouched, scanning her rows of shoes, heels, stilettos, sandals, in perfect order, except for one thing.No crimson stilettos.Marena’s smile didn’t falter, though her hand stilled around the bottles of perfume she was arranging on her vanity. “Like I said, I just needed to clear my head. This house,” she gestured vaguely toward the hallway, “has been a storm since your little bri

CHAPTER 80: Blood on the wallsInside a luxury high-rise building, the elevator doors slid open with a hollow chime. Nico stepped out, his dark coat swaying softly in the wind. He moved with quiet predatory precision, and was followed closely behind by his men, weapons drawn, boots crunching soundlessly against the floor. Nico had a hunch that something was off when he saw that the door to the penthouse that they were heading to, was ajar. And almost like a confirmation to his suspicion, a draft carried with it the metallic tang of blood.Nico’s expression hardened, his guards instantly heightened. “Guns up.”The men obeyed and they entered silently, coming face to face with a scene that resonated loudly with the aftermaths of violence, of struggle.A shattered vase. Blood splattered across ivory walls. Furniture overturned. Curtains torn from their rods. The distinct scent of that perfume that Nico heavily disliked, mingled grotesquely with the iron stench of violence and copper.“Di