Francesca's life is turned upside down when betrayal and ruin shatter her world. After waking up next to Marco, a powerful mafia don and Lycan, and her ex-fiancé Gianni’s older brother. She is pushed into a dangerous game of power, vengeance, and forbidden desire. Forced to choose between the humiliation of her past and a future bound to Marco by an unconventional marriage, Francesca must navigate family betrayal, mafia intrigue, and her growing attraction to the man who could destroy or save her. Will her alliance with the enigmatic mafia Lycan be her salvation or her undoing?
View More(FRANCESCA POV)
I blinked away the blur, as the reality came crashing down.
“By Luna’s light, what have I done?. This could bring down Fenrir’s wrath on me!”
I gasped, jolting upright in bed, my hands clutching the sheets as I took in my surroundings. “This was not my room” I said as I scanned the luxurious furnishings, the rich red walls, and the elaborate ceiling. And then my stomach dropped.
Beside me, under the same tangle of sheets, lay a man. But not just any man, Marco, my ex-boyfriend’s older brother, The Lycan Don. I could barely breathe as I took in his bare, chiseled chest, his muscular arm draped lazily over the bed as if nothing were out of the ordinary except that I was in this room with Marco.
“Damn you, Fenrir's fang, not again”. I muttered under my breath. The realization hit me hard. I was naked, in bed with Marco.
A rush of shame and anger surged through me. I had fought for years to bury my feelings for him, knowing they’d bring nothing but ruin. But here I was, lying next to the brother of the very man who haunted my dreams and tortured my waking hours, Gianni my ex-boyfriend, No the best word is my ex-fiance.
I shifted, desperate to slip away quietly. I gathered my clothes that was scattered across the floor like remnants of a storm, and clutched them close. But just as I stood up to leave, there he was standing tall, dominating, and looking down at me.
“Leaving so soon, Francesca?”
Marco’s voice was laced with mock amusement.His gaze trailed lazily from my face down to my bare legs.
I froze from the embarrassment heating my cheeks as I tightened my grip on my clothes.
“Look,I just want to go home”, I managed to say, my voice wavering.His gaze was intense, and predatory, reminding me just who he was.
He was powerful and ruthless, and I knew all too well that he had a weakness for watching me squirm.
But instead of stepping back, Marco moved closer, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair from my face.
He held my neck and his touch was both harsh and electrifying, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.
“Oh, but we’re just getting started, my love,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to mine. My heart pounded wildly, my mind screaming to resist, but his presence consumed me. I hated how easily he could make me feel weak, and powerless, all with a single look.
“Marco, please”, I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Let me go”.
His hands slowly moved from my breast which lingered on my nipples, I was dripping, his hands moving like the shock of waves on my body, his touch igniting a fire I didn’t want to acknowledge.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Do You want me, Francesca? Say it"
I nodded out of impulse.
He was right to ask, I was yearning and I couldn't hide it. Against every instinct of reason and self-preservation, I leaned into him, letting the raw, primal pull of desire take over, just for a moment. But before things could spiral further, he suddenly released me, smirking as he took a step back.
“Get out,” he said, his tone shifting coldly as he folded his arms. The sudden change in his demeanor was a slap to my pride, yet a twisted part of me still wanted more.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to focus. I needed to escape the tangled web he wove, both for my sanity and for my heart.
Dressing hurriedly, I stumbled down the stairs, my mind a storm of shame, anger, and yearning. As I slipped into my heels and reached the foyer, I felt the weight of the mansion pressing down on me.
The house stood like a fortress, carved deep into the edge of a misty, ancient forest. Crafted from a blend of dark stone and reclaimed timber, the structure seemed to pulse with untamed energy, as if it had grown organically from the earth a sheer power Marco, the symbol of a Lycan power which he held, the undeniable grip he had on my life.
Outside, I quickly called a taxi, praying to the Moon Goddess that no one saw me leaving. The car pulled up, and as I settled into the back seat, I exhaled shakily.
The air was thick with tension as I took one last glance at the mansion through the rearview mirror.
My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was Aunt Emilia, her voice frantic and high-pitched. “Francesca! Your father collapsed! He’s at Winston Memorial… they’re saying it’s because of heart failure. He was dealing with the Mafias.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What?” I whispered my voice barely breathing. The shock robbed me of words, my father’s face flashing through my mind. For years, he had struggled to protect our family, and I knew his involvement with the Mafia was for our sake. But now…
“Miss, you alright?” the driver asked, his concerned eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
I nodded numbly.
“Take me to Winston Memorial. Quickly.”
As the taxi sped down the rain-slicked streets, my mind spun with questions and fears. Had Marco known about this? Was this some twisted part of his game? And why had he called me there last night?
When we arrived at the hospital, I practically threw money at the driver and raced inside, my heart pounding as I searched for answers. I stopped at the information desk, out of breath and panicked.
“I’m here for Mr. Anderson Colman, My father.”
The nurse looked up, sympathy softening her stern expression. “He’s in surgery right now. The doctors are doing everything they can,” The nurse said.
My legs nearly gave out beneath me. Surgery.
The word rang in my ears, thick with dread. I slumped onto one of the lobby chairs, wrapping my arms around myself as if I could shield myself from the storm tearing through my mind.
As I sat there, head buried in my hands, I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I looked up and saw Aunt Emilia with her sad face and teary face.
Sofia glances between us, her expression serious. “I’ll handle the logistics. We’ll move rapidly, and we’ll be in frequent contact. But be ready for anything.” I nod, my gut knotted with fear. Tonight, everything might change. We’re going to step into the dark, into the lion’s den. And there’s no telling what…or who…awaits us. As we prepare to go, the weight of the decision weighs down on me like never before. The hazards are larger than they’ve ever been, but we have no other alternative. We have to act. And we have to survive. As Marco, Luca, and Francesca prepare to meet the new opponent in the warehouse, the stakes are greater than ever. With the danger drawing closer and no way of knowing what awaits them, one incorrect action may cost them everything. Will they survive the showdown, or will the new adversary strike first? The night seems darker than normal as we make our way to the building. The address Sofia’s contact gave us looms in the distance, a scary shadow in the da
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the increasing sensation of terror that seeps into my gut. “How do we even start looking for them?” I inquire, my voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have any leads.” “We’ll get one,” Marco adds, his tone leaving no space for dispute. “Sofia’s contact is working on it. We simply need to be patient.” But patience is the last thing I have right now. Every second that goes by seems like another second closer to disaster. Closer to the adversary we still can’t see. As the minutes turn into hours, my anxiousness only intensifies. Marco and Luca are deep in discourse, contemplating various strategies and methods to gain the upper hand. But all I can think about is how everything appears to spiral out of control. I sat beside the window, staring blankly at the night sky, my heart heavy with terror. The more I watch Marco and Luca prepare for what seems like another battle, the more my imagination races with worst-case possibilities. “What if this nev
Sofia arrives at the hospital two days later with a determined expression on her face despite her pallor. She enters the room and declares, "I've reached out to someone." "A former underworld contact." He may know the identity of this new adversary.I look at Marco, and I can see the discomfort in his eyes. "Are you certain we can rely on him?" Marco asks in a doubtful tone. "Sofia, we are in dangerous territory.""I understand," Sofia responds steadily. But there is nothing we can do. It's no longer just about us. We're all in trouble if this person is as dangerous as I've heard. We require every available assistance.Feeling conflicted, I bite my lip. Sofia is correct; if her contact can provide us with the answers we need, it may be our only option. However, I'm terrified of the idea of delving even further into the criminal underworld. We've already lost a great deal. How much more are we willing to risk?At last, Marco declares in a determined tone, "We'll meet him." However, we
Her remarks were like a kick to the stomach. One more adversary. One more danger. It sounds worse than Gianni, this one."Are you sure, Sofia?" My voice is hardly steady as I inquire.With an agitated tone, she responds, "I'm sure." "You must use caution, Francesca. You're not secure. None of us is.As I hang up, my head is racing from the weight of Sofia's warning, and my heart is pounding. With my hands shaking and my face pallid, I turn to face Luca.I mumble, my voice cracking, "Luca." "There's another person. It was not only Gianni.As the truth sinks in, Luca's face hardens and his eyes widen. "Who?" he asks in a low, menacing voice."I'm not sure," I answer, my throat constricted. Sofia, however, believes that he is much more dangerous than Gianni.Tension permeates the air as the room becomes quiet. The fear is beginning to step in and envelop me like a thick mist.A fresh adversary appeared out of the shadows just as I believed that the situation was fully resolved. I'm not s
"Is he visible to me?" After hours of sobbing and begging, my voice hoarse and sounds like a whisper.The physician gives a nod. "You can, but only temporarily. He needs to sleep.I move toward Marco's room without waiting for him to finish, my feet moving as if they were on autopilot. I must see him. He must still be with me, I must know that.I'm astounded to see Marco lying there so still as soon as I enter the room. He is connected to equipment, and the only sound in the room is the heart monitor's steady beep. He has bandages all over his body and a pale, almost ghostly face. He is, however, breathing. That is all that is important.To avoid disturbing the IV that is connected to his arm, I carefully take his hand in mine as I approach him. I clutch to the warmth of his flesh as if it were the only thing keeping me rooted.I tremble as I grasp his hand and whisper, "You're going to be okay." "You must be."I eventually give myself a moment of relief as I sit next to him. He is st
I'm at a loss for what to do. I have no control over anything that occurs. I am unable to wage this struggle on his behalf. I can pray, though.I tremble as I say, "Please," tears streaming down my face. "Don't take him away from me, please. I can't let him go just yet. Not after everything.My body trembles with quiet sobbing as the tears become more intense and I bury my face in my hands. The Moon Goddess may or may not be listening, but I have to think she is. There must still be hope, in my opinion.I mutter, "He’s everything to me," while I cry. "Just give me more time, please. Let him live, please.The length of time I spend kneeling on the chilly floor with my hands clenched together in fervent prayer is unknown to me. The tears soon cease, though, and all that's left in my chest is an empty emptiness.I gently get to my feet, wipe my eyes, and go back to the chair. Luca turns to face me, worry shining in his eyes.He responds, rather quietly, "He’ll pull through," but I can he
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