Chapter 95 FIRE AND BLOOD
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AUTHOR’S POV
The night was thick with the scent of blood and burning hatred.
Leonardo laid merely breathing on the ground, broken beyond repair. His body twitched, spasming in pain, his breath ragged and uneven.
Blood pooled beneath him, staining the dirt, soaking into his clothes. But even as his strength faded, his pride remained.
Even now, he smirked through the agony.
A twisted, delusional smile—one that dared them to do worse.
Charles started laughing.
A slow, mocking chuckle that sent a chill through the gathered crowd.
The men of Luciano’s mafia stood with their heads hung low, not daring to interfere.
The women—Alessandra, Angelina, Isabella, Aurora, Kiara, Rose—all watched in silence, their faces a mixture of horror and disbelief.
This was not just a punishment.
This was an execution.
Luciano stood still, his dark eyes empty, watching his brother bleed out like it meant nothing.
Adeline felt Eva tremble beside her, her grip tightening around Adeline’s arm. This was brutal.
Even for them.
But Adeline couldn’t look away.
Not when this was the end of everything.
Not when this man had stolen her father’s life and ruined so many others.
Charles took a step forward, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked dirt.
“Not like this, Leonardo,”
he drawled, tilting his head mockingly.
“You don’t get to go out with a simple gunshot. That would be too easy. And you—” his smirk widened,
“You don’t deserve easy.”
Leonardo’s jaw tightened, his fingers twitching against the ground.
That reaction—exactly what Charles wanted.
“Aw, what’s wrong?”
Charles cooed, crouching beside him.
“Does it hurt?”
His voice was laced with amusement, with sadistic pleasure.
“You always acted like you were untouchable. A king among men. But now look at you.”
Charles reached out and gripped Leonardo’s bloodied face, forcing him to look up.
“Pathetic.”
Leonardo growled, but his pain was too great to fight back.
Adeline exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remain still.
She felt Vladimir shift beside her, his grip loosening—and she let him go.
She knew.
Tonight would be the end of everything.
The hunger for revenge, the years of torment, the weight of betrayal that had crushed them all—it would all end here.
Charles’s laughter faded, and his smirk sharpened.
Slowly, he pulled out his knife.
Luciano said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
This was Charles’s moment.
With calm precision, Charles lowered himself to his knees beside Leonardo, dragging the tip of the knife along his cheek before pressing it against his left eye.
Leonardo tensed, his body trembling, but before he could utter a word—
Charles stabbed.
A sickening squelch filled the air.
Leonardo’s scream tore through the night, raw and agonizing.
Adeline squeezed her eyes shut.
The sound was unbearable.
Eva flinched violently, clutching onto Adeline’s arm, burying her face into her shoulder. This was brutal.
Too brutal.
But Adeline couldn’t turn away.
Because this was justice.
Charles grinned, his hands soaked in blood, as he gripped the hilt of the knife and twisted, his gaze locked onto Leonardo’s contorted face.
“You always loved looking down on people, didn’t you?”
Charles mocked, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Well, now you won’t be looking at anyone ever again.”
With a sharp tug, he plucked Leonardo’s eye out.
The mutilated orb dangled from the knife for a moment before Charles tossed it aside like garbage.
Leonardo’s wails of agony echoed through the vast courtyard, his body thrashing weakly against the ground.
Charles simply wiped his hands on his suit, his expression twisting in disgust.
“Tsk.” He shook his head.
“Your blood is filthy. Ruined my damn suit.”
Leonardo’s breath came in sharp, erratic gasps, his face covered in blood and sweat.
He was shuddering violently, his body wracked with unbearable pain.
And then—Vladimir stepped forward.
“Hello, uncle,” he murmured, his voice disturbingly calm.
Leonardo barely managed to lift his head.
His remaining eye was unfocused, glazed with agony and the realization that this was his end.
Charles stepped back, letting Vladimir take his place.
Vladimir crouched next to him, tilting his head, observing him like a predator studying its prey.
And then—he grabbed the knife.
Leonardo barely had time to react before Vladimir drove the blade into his abdomen.
Another guttural scream.
Vladimir twisted the knife, his expression void of emotion.
And then, he started pulling.
Skin tore.
Blood gushed.
Leonardo wailed.
It was brutal.
So, so brutal.
Adeline trembled, her entire body going rigid.
Flashes of her father’s death filled her mind.
The screams. The blood. The helplessness.
Leonardo begged.
“Kill me!” His voice was broken, raw, desperate.
Rose sobbed loudly, her body shaking as she buried her face into her hands.
The women—Angelina, Alessandra, Isabella, Kiara, Aurora, and the others—turned their heads away.
They couldn’t watch.
Adeline’s throat tightened.
Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palm.
And yet, Luciano stood completely unfazed.
Expression unreadable.
Unmoved.
Vladimir kept going.
He was relentless.
He wanted Leonardo to feel every single moment of pain, to know what it meant to be powerless, to suffer as the people he betrayed had suffered.
Leonardo’s screams weakened.
His body spasmed.
He was dying.
Slowly.
Painfully.
And no one—no one—was going to stop it.
The world around them seemed to blur into nothing but the roaring flames.
Leonardo’s body writhed in the fire, his skin blistering, curling, turning black as the inferno consumed him.
The smell of burning flesh thickened the air, suffocating, nauseating. His screams were no longer human.
They were high-pitched, raw, and filled with the kind of agony that could shake even the most hardened of souls.
But Luciano stood unfazed.
His cold, sharp eyes watched as the fire claimed the last remnants of his brother, as if ensuring there was no possibility of escape.
His men, those who had sworn their loyalty, were still kneeling around him, their heads bowed low in silent submission.
Their king had executed his justice.
The scene was absolute chaos. The crackling fire. The heavy silence of the onlookers.
The raw sobs of those too weak to witness such brutality.
And then…
Bianca.
She had been standing still, motionless as a ghost, staring at the fire with wide, unblinking eyes.
A woman who had once been the very embodiment of grace and poise… reduced to nothing but a trembling, broken shell.
She had lost everything.
Her power.
Her control.
Her lovers.
And she knew it.
But before she could even begin to comprehend the true weight of what had happened, Vladimir moved.
Adeline saw the shift before anyone else.
Her younger brother—her baby brother—was no longer a boy.
He was a monster born from fire and vengeance.
With slow, calculated steps, Vladimir walked toward Bianca.
He didn’t look at her with anger.
There was no rage in his eyes.
No fury.
Only emptiness.
It was as if he had already decided her fate long ago, as if this was nothing more than a necessary task to complete.
Bianca seemed to snap out of her trance when she felt his presence, her eyes darting to him in terror.
“Vladimir…” Her voice cracked.
He did not stop walking.
“Vladimir, please.” Her breath hitched as she took a step back.
“I’m your mother.”
He did not flinch.
Did not blink.
Did not care.
Bianca’s breathing grew erratic.
For the first time in her life, she looked truly helpless.
Adeline saw it then—the exact moment Bianca realized that she was going to die.
That there was no escaping it.
And then—Vladimir grabbed her by the hair.
A sharp, piercing scream escaped Bianca’s lips as her feet dragged against the dirt, her nails clawing at his wrist in desperation.
“Let go of me! Let go!”
But Vladimir’s grip was unyielding.
His fingers twisted into her dark locks, yanking her forward with a strength no sixteen-year-old should have possessed.
Bianca’s screams grew louder, her entire body thrashing in panic.
She wasn’t pleading anymore.
She was fighting for her life.
“Vladimir! I gave birth to you!” she cried, her voice raw with terror.
Adeline felt her throat tighten.
Would this make a difference?
Would Vladimir stop?
But then, her brother spoke.
And his words sealed her fate.
“You stopped being my mother the moment you betrayed us.”
A violent sob tore from Bianca’s throat.
And yet—Vladimir didn’t hesitate.
With ruthless force, he dragged her forward, toward the fire.
The flames cast an eerie glow over his face, illuminating the merciless resolve in his features.
Luciano did not stop him.
Charles did not stop him.
No one did.
Because they all knew—she deserved this.
Bianca twisted her body, her nails digging into the dirt, into Vladimir’s arm, into anything she could grasp.
But it was useless.
She was weak.
And Vladimir was stronger.
Adeline’s legs trembled as she watched in horror, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.
She had dreamed of vengeance.
She had craved it.
But now that it was unfolding before her very eyes—
It felt different.
It felt… empty.
“Vladimir, please! I—”
Before she could finish her plea, he shoved her forward.
Straight into the fire.
Bianca’s screams were deafening.
Adeline’s body jerked at the sound, her breath catching in her throat.
It was unlike Leonardo’s screams—his had been filled with rage, with pain, with resistance.
But Bianca’s?
Bianca’s screams were pure, undiluted horror.
The kind of screams that came from knowing you were about to die and there was nothing you could do about it.
She landed directly on top of Leonardo’s burning corpse, the flames immediately latching onto her clothing, her skin.
Within seconds, her body convulsed violently, her arms flailing, her legs kicking in desperation.
The smell of burning flesh thickened.
Her hair sizzled, her clothes melted into her skin, her screams ripping through the night.
The fire showed no mercy.
And neither did Vladimir.
He stood still, watching his mother burn.
His face was unreadable.
And then—her screams stopped.
Just like that.
The fire crackled on, but Bianca no longer moved.
She was gone.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The flames danced in front of them, consuming the last remains of a woman who had once been feared.
And now—she was nothing but ash.
Adeline’s knees buckled, and before she could stop herself—she fell.
Her breath was shallow, her vision blurred.
She felt… nothing.
No anger.
No relief.
Nothing.
It was all over.
The past.
The war.
The hunger for vengeance.
Everything had ended in fire and blood.