บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia Lord's Spitfire Captive : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Elena's POVThe smell of cigar smoke and expensive cologne was thick in the air, making me nauseous. My knees were weak, partly from fear and partly from the ridiculous shoes Dante’s team had shoved onto my feet. The false teeth in my mouth were making it difficult to breathe, let alone talk, and I cursed Dante for putting me in this situation. I was disguised as an old woman…a frail, hunched-over figure supposedly reunited with her long-lost son.The "son" in question, however, was none other than Lorenzo "The Butcher" Bellucci. His name alone sent chills down my spine, and now here he was, standing before me with a trembling lip and watery eyes. Lorenzo was a large man, thick with muscle, his suit straining against his chest. His presence was as suffocating as the smoke-filled room, and he sniffled loudly, his eyes scanning me with disbelief and desperation."Madre?" he whispered, his voice trembling. His men exchanged glances, their beefy frames blocking every exit. I forced myself

Elena's POV.I couldn’t breathe, my legs were burning, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. This was my chance to escape. This was it. I had to get away from Dante, away from all the madness, the punching from Lorenzo, the blood, and most of all, his insane demands. What had he brought me here for? To kill me? Was this some sick joke?I pushed myself harder, ignoring the way my feet stumbled in the ridiculous old woman’s shoes. The heels wobbled, but I didn’t care. I had to run. I had to get out of this nightmare.I could hear his voice behind me, shouting, his footsteps thundering closer. "You can’t get away from me, Elena. You belong to me." His words were cold, deadly, like he truly thought I was going to let him have his way with me."Go to hell, Dante!" I screamed over my shoulder, barely glancing back as I ran.My heart raced, fear and adrenaline mixing in my veins. I couldn’t even think straight, I was just running. Running from him. Running from my fate.In my panic, I grabbed whatev

Elena's POV.I was running again, only this time, it wasn’t from Dante. It wasn’t even from the chaos of the night before. I was running through the past, running through memories of when things were... better. I was twelve.I could hear my mom laughing, her voice soft and warm, as she pulled me into a hug. I could feel my dad’s big, strong hands on my shoulders, his firm but gentle grip, telling me everything would be okay. Marcus was there too. He was my big brother, always so protective, always keeping watch.“Everything’s fine,” Mom said, smiling down at me with love in her eyes. “We’ve got you, Elena. We’ve got you.”I smiled back at her, at them both. Life was perfect, easy. I was happy. And Marcus…he was there, always teasing me but looking out for me.But then... everything shifted. Things cracked, the happy moments faded into a blur. I was gone…missing. Where the hell had I gone?And then, they found me. But it was too late. My parents, on their way to get me, they were dead.

Dante's POV.The cold water poured down on me, cutting through the heat that was in my skin. I let it hit my face, fingers gripping the edges of the shower wall, trying to steady myself. The steam swirled around me, the pressure of the water almost as intense as the storm of thoughts running through my head.Elena.It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I wasn’t supposed to let the damn kiss happen. But her. Her mouth... the way she gasped, her lips parted just slightly, like she was asking for it without even knowing. Those damn lips of hers…they were trouble, I knew that much. She had a way of looking at me that made me want to do things I couldn’t allow myself to think about.I clenched my jaw, trying to shake her image from my mind. But it was impossible. It didn’t help that I could still taste her on my lips, could still feel the way she melted under me, the heat of her body radiating through her skin. I wasn’t a fucking saint, and damn if she didn’t drive me mad.I had her cuf

Elena's POV. The question hit me like a physical blow, and I recoiled slightly, my hands gripping the edge of the table. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said sharply, pushing back my chair and rising to my feet. I turned to leave, my pulse pounding in my ears, but before I could take a step, his hand caught my wrist. With one swift motion, he twirled me back to face him, his grip firm but not painful. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as his dark eyes bore into mine, filled with that maddening intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Stop running,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “If you want me, say it. Don’t punish yourself for feeling it.” I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My heart thundered in my chest, betraying me once again. His hand slid down my wrist to my palm, holding it lightly, as if daring me to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Dante's eyes held mine, firm, hard. There was something almost unnervingly calm about the way he