Page 135 of Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines

Phoenix smiled coldly, turning to Tristan. “Why don’t you tell them, priest? Tell them how I betrayed them. How I’ve been playing this game long before they even knew the rules.”

Without warning, both brothers slammed into Tristan’s mind. It was like being struck by lightning—his knees buckled under the mental assault. Their combined power was ruthless, unrelenting, tearing through his thoughts, searching for the truth.

Tristan collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in agony. Charmaine rushed forward to help, but a new gust of wind ripped through the sky. Shakespeare descended, bringing with him Sonya, her face set in determination and her eyes focused. The force of their arrival broke the brothers’ concentration, easing the pressure on Tristan.

“Fermati!It’s true!” Shakespeare shouted. “We just left Syracuse. We saw it ourselves.”

Sonya slipped from Shakespeare’s side, stepping protectively toward Dolly. The absence of Darlene weighed on her heart like a stone. As the Guardian of Pain, her first duty was to Darlene—always. But now, it seemed, Darlene was lost... or worse.

“Explain this,” Marcello snarled. He stepped toward Phoenix. His eyes narrowed as he sensed something amiss. “Are you blocking me?”

Phoenix remained still, indifferent. The smugness infuriated Marcello.

Marcello and Sebastiano shared a look of dawning horror. They both felt it now—the heavy, undeniable truth crushed down upon them.

“Padre?” Sebastiano whispered.

Marcello’s gaze snapped back to Phoenix, who withdrew a baton from beneath his robe. Sonya’s eyes widened at the sight of it—a weapon dark with magic. It wasn’t one of their creations, but something older, more deadly. It transformed to a sword.

“You dare wield a weapon I taught you how to make?” Marcello spat, his voice full of venom.

Phoenix let the weapon extend. Its dark, magical edges hummed with ancient power. He dragged the sword across the cobblestones, sending sparks into the air as he walked a straight line between Dolly and the Fratelli.

“You created what I allowedyouto create,” Phoenix said calmly. “You served my purpose well, but now it’s too late baby vampire—the youngest of four. The Supreme Draquria has been released. Lucio belongs to him.”

“He’s not gone! Not yet, you bastard,” Dolly shouted her voice filled with raw defiance.

Phoenix turned his cold gaze on her, then swung the blade with deadly precision. Charmaine and Sonya reacted instantly; their combined powers created a shield just before the sword could slice through Dolly’s throat. The weapon sparked againstthe barrier, bending and cracking before reforming in Phoenix’s grip.

He raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. Dolly stepped back, power radiated from her, the brothers still unsure of their next move. Phoenix shifted his stance, his body poised like a seasoned warrior.

“Don’t make me kill you,” Phoenix warned. “The Supreme Draquria wants you. Lucio will submit soon enough, and you will be his queen. If you take one more step toward me, I’ll deliver you to him bound in chains.”

“Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain?” Tristan managed to ask, as he pushed himself up from the ground.

Phoenix smiled. “You still don’t understand, do you? I don’t serve anyone but the Supreme. I’ve already set everything in motion. Your war, your little rebellions... all part of the plan. Lucio will rule the underworld, and you—all of you—will serve him.”

Shakespeare, his usual bravado fading, muttered under his breath, “You’re nothing but a lapdog for your dragon, a glorified errand boy with no real power.”

Phoenix chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. After all, I had fun withyourlittle pet. Raising Sophie from the dead—her soulless, broken body—was the most exquisite torture I’ve ever witnessed. She begged for mercy to the very end.”

Shakespeare’s smirk vanished, replaced by a cold fury.

But before he could respond, Phoenix unleashed a powerful blast, faster than anyone could react. Phoenix threw Tristan and Shakespeare into the air, causing them to crash to the ground. Their bodies stiffened unnaturally, eyes clouding over as they writhed in agony. Phoenix’s dark magic began to take hold, zombifying them under his control.

“You were always meant for the underworld,” Phoenix said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Both of you will serve well.”

Sonya cried out, trying to run to them, but Phoenix struck again, this time targeting her. The blow hit her hard, ancient techniques, leaving her breathless and bleeding as she collapsed onto the ground.

Tristan and Shakespeare, trapped in their frozen states, twitched violently, their eyes bright with pain. Even in their zombified state, the sight of Sonya’s injury ignited fury within them—they both loved her in their own way.

Phoenix looked down at her, his gaze indifferent. “She’ll live. I need her pain to keep you both in line.”

Sebastiano, seeing Sonya fall, roared in rage. He summoned dark tendrils of power, drawing on his Tibetan training, his form blurred as he moved to strike Phoenix. But Phoenix was faster—his ancient weapon lashed out, countered Sebastiano’s attack with brutal precision, sending him with a brutal crash to the ground.

“You think you can defeat me?” Phoenix hissed. “You’ve been children playing with toys.”

Marcello, eyes blazed with fury, leaped forward, his hands crackled with magical energy. But as he charged, Phoenix flicked his wrist, and Marcello’s body froze mid-air, suspended by an unseen force.

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