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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal.: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

186 Kabanata

Prologue Nine years ago

The dark weather and cold breeze that brushed Allison’s skin couldn’t ease the hurt buried in her chest. The sky hung heavy, casting a gray shadow over the cemetery.With her hands quivering as they grabbed the sides of her black dress, sixteen-year-old Allison stood at the edge of the grave, her eyes red and swollen from grief. It was a small coffin, as if its size mirrored how little time her mother had spent with her—just sixteen short years.Beside her stood her father, Mr. Blackwell, a man of rigid strength, yet even he could not mask the pain of losing his wife. He quickly wiped away a tear from his face. His other hand rested on Allison’s shoulder, a gesture meant to offer comfort, but she barely felt it. He awkwardly patted her shoulder again. He didn't quite know how to ease her sorrow or comfort her."I’m consoled you’ve gone to rest from this toxic world, but I'll forever miss you, my love," Mr. Blade whispered emotionally, but his words fell into the heavy silence that sur

Chapter 1: Tied for Life.

"Do you, Allison Blackwell, take Dontrell Blade as your husband, in sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"“Yes, I do.” The words came out mechanically, a part of me still numb from everything that had happened. I had been kidnapped, tortured, and brought to this moment—standing before an altar, surrounded by people I barely knew, married to a man I hardly understood. As the priest spoke, I turned my head slightly, scanning the crowd. I searched for him. ‘Clayton’. But he wasn’t there. Where was he? Was he angry? Did he wish it were him standing beside me, taking my hand in marriage instead of his brother? A part of me wished he had been the one. But another part was relieved. Because Clayton, with his dark, unyielding eyes and the violent edge to his soul, was the one who had taken so much from me. ‘Dontrell’—his softer, quieter brother—had given me an escape, a way out of a life I feared would drown me. I had no choice in th

Chapter 2: This is my world now.

The plane landed with a smooth bump, and as I stepped up to the boarding door, the cool San Diego midnight breeze ruffled my hair. Dontrell’s large hand was warm as he took mine, lifting it to place a peck on it.“Let me guide you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice low, close to my ear. “I don’t want you tripping.”Without any more words, Dontrell led me down the plane's stairs, his hand still holding mine. His steps were sure and confident, and his presence was strong as I carefully followed behind. The bright glow of runway lights pierced the night and cast long shadows across the ground. At the end of the step, I was met with the warm grins of a gathering of youthful ladies and men dressed in savvy, blue outfits that made it clear they were part of Dontrell's domestic staff. Their modest appearance was a simple indication of the kind of life I was venturing into—a life where the simplest detail was carefully curated. I adjusted my Chanel bag, holding it tightly against my side. On

Chapter 3: Dontrell’s pov.

I woke up with a start, the coldness of the room hitting me before the alarm even had a chance to screech. My body always seemed to know when it was time, jerking awake moments before the loud, obnoxious beeping could ring in my ears. I grunted, reaching for my phone on the nightstand, and snoozed the alarm as soon as it started its irritating noise.I rubbed my eyes with one hand and my feet together simultaneously to shake off the chill from the air conditioning. The sting of the cold was brief—better than the oppressive LA heat. I propped myself up, resting my back against the cushioned headboard. Turning to my left, there she was—my wife, curled up like a cat, her wavy blonde hair scattered across her back, almost covering her entirely. She clung to the pillow like it was her last lifeline. But that didn't last long. Her face shifted, turning toward me. I couldn't help but notice her slightly parted soft lips and the slight flush of her skin from sleep. She was more beautiful tha

Chapter 4. How do I forget this? (Allison's POV)

Our car swerved sharply into the compound, the tires crunching over the gravel as it came to a halt. The car parked near the entrance, just next to the circular driveway, where a majestic lion statue stood in the center, its fierce gaze directed toward the grand steps leading into the mansion.I stepped out and immediately felt the icy chill settle over me—the kind that was more than just a breeze, the kind that sank into your bones. It was the same compound they had brought me when they first kidnapped me—those memories felt icy against my skin, clinging to me. Dontrell’s hand pressed gently on my back as we walked forward.“It’s okay if you want to go back,” he murmured beside me, his voice soft but concerned.“No, I’m good,” I lied; my heart was thumping. The truth was, I wanted to be here with him, despite the dark memories tied to this place.As we reached the entrance, Dontrell stopped to pull me closer into his arms. "You know I love you, right?" he whispered, his breath warm a

Chapter 5: Three Weeks Ago: When Everything Changed.

The sensation of ice water dumped on my head jolted me awake abruptly with a gasp and a sputter as it streamed down my face and mingled with the sweat on my skin already glued in place by the heat of the room.My body spasmed as I struggled to breathe. Panic constricted my chest, and I blinked furiously, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Slowly, the spinning world came into focus—a dim, suffocating room with walls that seemed to close in on me. A shadow loomed overhead. The man’s massive frame eclipsed the faint light, his presence radiating menace. He tossed the empty bucket aside with a loud clang that echoed in the confined space. I tried to move, but the ropes binding my wrists to the back of the chair bit into my skin, holding me firmly in place. My breaths came in shallow bursts as I craned my neck to look up at him. "Oh, our damsel in distress is awake. No, wait—it’s Sleeping Beauty," one of the guards quipped, his sneer pulling laughter from the others. I blinked ra

Chapter 6: Living in denial.

The pain radiated from my neck as Clayton’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging deep into my skin. The knife still hovered dangerously close to my face, and I gasped for air as his cold breath tickled my skin. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of this,” he hissed, his voice venomous.Then, without warning, the pressure eased. But it wasn’t mercy—it was a shift in position. I stifled a breath, the knife finally leaving my face. He crossed in front of me, bending over my shoulder, his body hovering close. His grip remained firm on my neck, and I could feel his heat, his body pressed into mine as he reached behind me. He cut the ropes binding my hands, but I could barely think as his presence loomed over me; the weight of his body on my shoulders held me in place.When the ropes finally gave way, my hands were free, and I gasped, moaning from the relief on my sore skin. My chest tightened, but it didn’t last long. In a split second, the tension in my body snapped into a fra

Chapter 7: (Dontrell’s POV). The meeting, part 1.

"Hours of talk, and the loverboy here still thinks peace will save us," Clayton growled, his eyes cold. He sat opposite me, alongside my father, his demeanour as sharp as a blade, and the way his eyes settled on me made it clear who the insult was aimed at."For every action, there’s an explanation. If the Regent infiltrated our warehouse, there must be a reason—perhaps he was threatened." I responded, leaning forward with a calm that I didn’t entirely feel.Clayton scoffed, his gaze deadly. “Or perhaps he wanted to use it to expand his arms trade and build his empire! The Circle wants us weak so they can name a new Godfather. If we don’t act, we lose everything.” His words hung heavy, and I couldn’t ignore the way his fists clenched with restrained fury.I glanced at my father, who sat still, his expression unreadable. He was always silent in moments like these—the calm before the storm. I knew better than to underestimate him. My father, the Godfather of Los Angeles, always had ruth

Chapter 8: (Dontrell’s POV) The Meeting, Part 2

The smoke from Clayton’s gun lingered as the man crumpled to the ground. Clayton holstered his gun, his cold gaze fixed on the body. “Get rid of him,” he ordered, his tone like ice. The security men swiftly dragged the corpse out. He turned back to the council. “This is our time to act. Call the Graves’ second-in-command—no deals, no mercy.”The room was tight with tension as Clayton spoke. His words were sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. I stiffened at his bluntness. Clayton had no patience for diplomacy.Simeon, the Graves Gang's representative, shot to his feet. His eyes burnt with anger, his voice booming across the room. "You can’t accuse us of killing our boss. Of robbing you." His words echoed, thick with indignation."No one mentioned robbery, Simeon. Yet you seem to know about it.” Clayton shot back.I turned my gaze toward Simeon, locking eyes with him. Every man in the room was watching him now, waiting for him to break, but he struggled for words, caught u

Chapter 9. Steam and Fire: Dontrell sucks Me Wild.

The lavender scent clung to the air as warm water cascaded over me, washing away exhaustion. The shower was my refuge—a brief escape from everything. Dontrell was still asleep in the bedroom, the house eerily quiet.My thoughts drifted to my father and Nadeem—it had been too long since I’d heard from them. My new phone, constantly under Dontrell’s surveillance, was only available to me on days he allowed it, and even then, I couldn’t text anyone without his permission. My father’s betrayal of my mother’s memory still haunted me; the news of the amount of trafficked women he had slept with was a dark reminder of the broken man he’d become. A faint sound outside the bathroom door broke the silence. I paused the shower and called, “Dontrell, is that you?”No answer. I peeked out from behind the tub’s curtain, a massive shower with frosted glass. My breath caught; the ensuite bathroom was luxurious—polished marble, gold fixtures—but it was empty.I shook off the unease and turned back t

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