Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me?: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

Serena:I couldn’t stop shaking.Blood clung to my palms, warm and slick, and all I could see was the moment Umbra’s eyes had locked on mine—the hunger there, the promise. Even crumpled on the ground, his chest stuttering with shallow, ragged breaths, he didn’t look defeated. He looked patient. Like a predator biding his time.“Finish it,” Nico hissed, his knife still hovering over Umbra’s throat. His voice was sharp enough to cut bone. “Before he wakes up and we regret breathing.”Luca’s hand shot out, gripping Nico’s wrist hard enough that tendons stood out beneath the skin. “Not here. Not now.”“The hell do you mean not now?” Nico’s teeth bared in something between a snarl and a grin. “He broke into our safehouse, nearly killed Matteo. You think he came alone?”That landed like a strike in my gut. My gaze flicked toward the stairwell, the shadows beyond it suddenly too deep, too quiet.“They’re coming,” Matteo croaked behind me. His eyes, hazy with pain, still burned with something

SerenaThe chair was cold. Too cold. It bit through the wet fabric clinging to my skin as they shoved me down, metal cuffs locking hard around my wrists before I could even thrash. The scrape of chains echoed, final, absolute.Umbra leaned close, his shadow falling over me, his blood still dripping steady. His hand ghosted along the armrest, as if this was some ritual, some coronation instead of a prison.“You’ll see,” he whispered, his breath burning against my ear. “What you are…what you were always meant to be. The wolves smell it already.”I snapped my teeth at him, my voice shredding. “I’m not yours. Not now. Not ever.”His smile only deepened, eyes shining with something that looked like hunger—or prophecy. “Then let’s make you prove it.”The pack’s laughter swelled around me, rolling through the warehouse like thunder.But underneath it, I swore I could still hear my name—faint, distant. Like a heartbeat calling me back.LucaWe tore through the streets like men possessed, rain

The warehouse felt empty, hollow, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. The air still carried the coppery tang of blood, the acrid bite of gunpowder, and the ghost of shadows that had once clawed through the room. My knees shook, my lungs burned, but the worst part—the part that made my stomach twist into knots—was that Umbra wasn’t gone forever. I could feel it, even now, a residue of him lingering in the corners of the warehouse, in the shadows curling unnaturally along the cracked concrete.“Serena,” Luca murmured, his voice steady, grounding. His hands were still on my back, holding me upright as though letting go would make me vanish. His chest heaved against mine, and I felt the raw, aching pulse of his heartbeat. It synchronized with mine, wild and frantic, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.I pressed my forehead to his chest, inhaling the scent of smoke, blood, and him, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t still tre

The first light of dawn didn’t bring relief. It painted the ruins in gold, but gold meant nothing when the world was bleeding.Luca stirred beside me, wincing as his shirt pulled against dried blood. His skin was clammy, pale under the fire of his stubbornness, and I hated him for it—hated him for wearing pride like armor when his body screamed otherwise.Nico had left his post at the door and was crouched over a map spread across the rotting wood of a table. His finger traced streets I knew too well, arteries of the city that belonged to Umbra more than they ever belonged to us.“You’re not listening,” he said, voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Every route out of here is compromised. Umbra’s got men at the bridges, the docks, even the rail lines. If we try to move now, we walk straight into his jaws.”Luca pushed himself upright, every movement a silent war against his wounds. “So we don’t move yet. We draw him in.”Nico’s head snapped up. “Draw him in? With what? Empty guns and bo

The night pressed in on the safehouse like a secret we weren’t meant to keep. The walls sweated damp, the air stale with dust, liquor, and the faint tang of gun oil. It wasn’t a sanctuary, not really. At best, it was a pause between storms. At worst, a coffin waiting to be nailed shut.I sat at the table, my father’s old pistol heavy in my palm. Its weight felt unnatural, though I’d carried guns before. Maybe because it wasn’t just steel—it was history. His history. Every scratch in the grip was another ghost.Luca’s breathing was uneven from the chair beside me. He tried to keep it steady, but I’d spent too long around men like him not to hear the strain. Pride kept him upright, but blood didn’t care about pride. It seeped dark through the bandages we’d wrapped around his ribs, a slow bloom that made my stomach knot.“You keep looking at that gun,” he said, voice rough from pain. “Like it’ll tell you what to do.”“It’s not talking back,” I muttered, eyes fixed on the barrel.He huffe