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Lahat ng Kabanata ng Sold To The Mafia Lord: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

246 Kabanata

Chapter Thirty-one: Marked

The SUV hurtled down the road, tires chewing up pavement like the devil was at their heels.Emilia sat in the backseat, Lucien’s head in her lap, her hands trembling as she pressed down on the wound at his side. Blood soaked through her fingers, hot and terrifyingly endless. He was pale. Too pale. But his eyes were still open, barely.“Stay with me,” she whispered, brushing the matted strands of hair from his forehead. “Don’t you dare die, Lucien. Not now.”He didn’t speak. Just grunted, teeth clenched, his breathing ragged. His jaw was tight with pain, but he hadn’t made a sound since they’d pulled him off Catalina.Julio was in the front seat, barking orders into a burner phone. “Yes, now. The doc should already be waiting. No, we don’t go to the estate. Safe house. The one in Monteverde.”Emilia stared down at Lucien, but her mind was still back in that room.In the red silk.The blood.The sound of Catalina’s skull cracking against the stone wall.Lucien had become something else i

Chapter Thirty-Two: Hunted

Lucien hadn’t opened his eyes in over twenty-four hours.The doctor said he was stable. That the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. That the bleeding had stopped. But none of that mattered when she couldn’t hear his voice. When she couldn’t see the fire in his eyes.She sat beside him, curled up in the chair, knees tucked to her chest, unable to sleep. She hadn’t changed clothes since the warehouse. She barely ate. Her hand rested against his as if her touch alone could anchor him here, could call him back from wherever his mind had wandered.“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, voice cracked from hours of silence. “You don’t get to burn the world for me and then check out. That’s not how this ends.”His face was still pale, bandaged and bruised, but even unconscious, he looked… relentless. Like even death would think twice before touching him.She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, the ones that had been bloodied on Catalina’s face.Emilia swallowed the tightness in her throat. She

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Storms Incoming

Emilia woke to the sound of rustling.For a moment, her mind was suspended somewhere between sleep and memory, caught between the image of Lucien covered in blood and the rasp of his voice when he fell to his knees.But then her eyes blinked open, and she saw him.Lucien.Standing by the closet, shirtless, the gauze at his side stained deep red. His movements were slower than usual, calculated and quiet, as he folded a black shirt and dropped it into an open duffel.He was packing.And he was doing it alone.Her heart leapt in her chest. “Lucien…”He turned instantly, eyes snapping to hers. That cold, sharp awareness in them was dulled now, but not gone. Pain clung to him like a shadow, but so did something else.Relief.“You’re awake,” he said.She sat up slowly, wincing as her joints screamed in protest. “You’re awake too. You’re bleeding. You should be resting.”“I’ve had worse.” He crossed the room in three long strides, crouching at the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”“Yes.” She

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Watcher

They called him dead.Buried under the weight of Lucien Moretti’s past sins. Erased from records. Forgotten like a ghost that never mattered.But ghosts don’t vanish.They linger.They wait.And he had waited long enough.The feed flickered again.Her face.Emilia Romano.It was always her now. The girl Lucien bled for. The girl Catalina tried to weaponize before her spectacular downfall. A pretty pawn in the middle of a war she never asked for, one that had yet to truly begin.He leaned forward, shadows dancing over the sharp lines of his face as the screen steadied. The image was grainy, pulled from a hacked security feed, probably a safehouse tucked in one of Lucien’s lesser-known territories. Emilia sat on the couch, arms folded over her chest, expression guarded. Still recovering. Still unaware.The fool thought the battle was over.Lucien had buried Catalina. Burned through the Alvaros. Painted the streets with blood. All to reclaim what he believed was his.But he missed somethi

Chapter Thirty-Five: Low Altitude, High Voltage

The jet was already waiting when they arrived.Private. Black. Dangerous, just like the man who would be flying it.Emilia stayed quiet as Lucien handed their bags to Julio, who gave only a slight nod before stepping back into the shadows. No one else knew where they were going. No guards. No goodbyes. Just silence, the kind that usually came before a storm.“You good?” Lucien asked, glancing at her as he opened the cabin door.She nodded once, lying. Her stomach was tight, her pulse jumpy. Not from fear. Not even from leaving. But because he was there. Close. Tense. Bleeding confidence even through his bandages and the weight of exhaustion hanging on him.Lucien climbed the steps first, and Emilia followed, eyes on the narrow curve of his back, the flex of his muscles beneath the black shirt. He shouldn’t be moving like that, not after taking a bullet. Not after nearly bleeding out.But Lucien Moretti didn’t believe in pain. Or weakness. Or limits.Inside, the jet was sleek, dimly lit

Chapter Thirty Six: The Vulture

They thought he was dead.Buried beneath the rubble of his last betrayal, stripped of influence, hunted like a dog. They whispered his name in shadows, spat it between teeth soaked in vengeance. But they were wrong.He had never been easier to find, because he wanted to be found. Just not by them.The man they used to call brother, ally, friend, had become something else entirely.Now, in the underworld, he was known only as The Vulture.A name earned in blood and dishonor. Not because he circled the dead, but because he made them. Stripped them clean. Picked them dry. Left nothing but bone for the world to remember them by.And that’s exactly what he planned to do again.He sat in the shadows of a dimly lit warehouse, watching the live feed flicker across the monitors. Faces, locations, encrypted chatter on dark web networks, and flashing alerts, all stemming from one thing.A girl.Her image had gone viral through underground channels within hours, Catalina’s last parting gift.Emili

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Hideaway

The jet sliced through the clouds, a silver ghost against the early dawn sky. Emilia sat by the window, one leg tucked beneath her, her gaze fixed on the blur of stars disappearing behind them. The world below felt distant, cities, enemies, names she’d only started to understand. They were above it now, suspended between where they’d been and whatever came next.Lucien sat in the pilot’s seat, silent and still, his hands steady on the controls. The hum of the engine filled the quiet space between them. Julio had seen them off on the tarmac like a soldier watching his commander march into exile. Only he knew where they were headed. And that was how Lucien wanted it.Emilia glanced at Lucien again. The bandage at his side was tight, blood just beginning to stain through. He should have been resting. But instead, he was flying.For her.The thought twisted something sharp and warm inside her chest.She didn’t speak until the jet leveled out and the light above the cockpit switched to auto

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Right Hand

The office was quieter without him.Not silent, nothing ever was in Lucien Moretti’s world, but quieter. No heavy boots echoing through the marble halls, no low orders barked over the sound of gunmetal being cleaned, no storm humming beneath the surface of every breath.Lucien was gone. Underground. Healing. And until he returned, the weight of the empire sat on Julio’s shoulders.He hadn’t complained. Would never. This was what it meant to be the right hand, loyal when no one’s watching, lethal when everyone is.The men answered to Julio now. The capos, the lieutenants, even the old dogs who still measured loyalty in blood. They didn’t question him, not because of who he was, but because of who stood behind him. Lucien’s name still carried weight, even in absence.But weight alone didn’t keep kingdoms from falling.Julio spent his days tightening control, moving cash, rotating safehouses, reinforcing routes, sniffing out leaks. At night, he sifted through intelligence like poison, sep

Chapter Thirty-Nine:Unsaid Things

There was a strange kind of peace in the quiet.Far from the city. Far from the chaos. Far from the blood-stained memories that never seemed to leave her alone, even in dreams. Here, wrapped in the soft hum of silence and the occasional chirp of distant birds, Emilia found herself remembering how to breathe again.She liked it here.She spent her days reading in the sun-drenched corners of their temporary safe house, curled up in windowsills or stretched across the wooden porch with a book in her lap. The air smelled of pine and rain, fresh and untouched. There were no guards, no locked doors, no watchful eyes.Only Lucien.Or, at least, what was left of him.He slept a lot now. His body still healing. His mind even more so. At night, when the bruises on his ribs kept him from sleep, he whispered low conversations with Julio on encrypted calls. Emilia could hear them sometimes through the walls, strategy, names, whispers of new enemies, but the one name that never came up was hers.Thi

Chapter Fourty: Beneath The Heat

Lucien hadn’t meant to look.But there she was. Out on the balcony, barefoot, legs tucked beneath her on the lounge chair, a book in her lap and her hair swept up in a careless knot. The sunlight made her skin glow, golden, soft, flawless. The kind of warmth he didn’t deserve to touch.Her tank top clung to her like second skin, and the loose shorts rode high on her thighs as the wind caught them, revealing more than it hid.Lucien stood inside, hidden behind the tinted glass, watching.He should look away.He should turn around, bury himself in the files Julio had sent, or the intel they’d pulled from Catalina’s wreckage. But his eyes didn’t move. Couldn’t.She was reading again. Lips parted slightly, brow drawn in quiet concentration, one hand absently toying with the edge of the page. Her legs shifted, crossed, then stretched, and his mouth went dry.It had been weeks since they’d gone into hiding. Weeks of silence and safety and simmering tension thick enough to choke on. The war o

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