Sinscared Series #1
A forbidden love.
A betrayal lurking in the shadows.
And a world built on blood, deception, and vengeance.
In the ruthless world of the Italian mafia, loyalty is power, betrayal is death, and love... is a dangerous game.
Serafi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The airport buzzed with the low hum of travelers, each with their own destinations and stories, but my focus was solely on my mission.
It was the kind of place where lives crossed paths for mere seconds before splintering off into different directions.
But I wasn't here to wander or wonder. My focus was absolute, my path meticulously planned.
I moved with a practiced ease, blending into the crowd, just another passenger waiting to board a flight.
Neutral clothes, a forged boarding pass, no checked luggage—everything about me screamed anonymity.
To the eye, I was just another weary traveler heading somewhere forgettable.
Only, I wasn't.
My destination was clear—Dubai first, then on to Russia, where I would regroup and plan the next steps.
Everything had gone according to plan.
I made my way through security, the adrenaline from last night's raid still coursing through my veins.
The secrets he'd shown me, the way he'd traced his fingers over my skin while whispering about vaults and stash houses, all the while believing I was his. Believing he was safe with me.
Idiot.
He had no idea that every kiss, every moan, every late-night confession had been weaponized.
I'd memorized floor plans while faking orgasms.
I'd traced the shape of his empire in the sweat on his chest.
He thought he was breaking me in. I was burning him down.
He had no idea he was feeding his own destruction, and that thought made me smile, a small, cold curve of my lips.
All the groundwork I had laid, all the time spent ingratiating myself into his life, was finally paying off.
The French and Italians would fall, and with them, the rest of the mafia clans would crumble.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached the gate.
A quick glance at the screen told me it was Viktor.
I answered without hesitation, expecting to hear confirmation of the raid's success.
"Viktor," I said, my voice laced with the satisfaction of a job well done. "I trust everything went smoothly?"
There was a brief pause on the other end, long enough for a prickle of unease to creep into my gut.
"The raid happened as planned, but there's a problem," Viktor's voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the underlying tension.
I stopped in my tracks, the bustling noise of the airport fading into the background. "What do you mean, a problem?"
"Ekaterina," he continued, his tone now edged with frustration, "sklady byli pusty. No drugs, no ammunition—nothing."
