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149. Itching Skin
Last Updated:
2025-07-26 20:29:13
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Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 50. Another Truth
Cali’s POV.The third floor of Hale’s estate was always shrouded in a kind of silence that didn’t belong to the rest of the house. Downstairs was movement—muffled voices, bootsteps, the occasional clink of glass from the kitchen or the steady hum of Rosalita checking on Belle. But up here, everything was still. Like time had paused. Like even the air didn’t want to breathe too loud.I stood at the base of the staircase for a full thirty seconds before I finally moved.The wood groaned beneath my bare feet, each step creaking like it was trying to warn me off. Maybe it was. I ignored it.Hale had never explicitly banned me from coming up here. He didn’t need to. This part of the house was old. Untouched. Untamed. The third floor wasn’t remodeled, wasn’t part of any guest tours or operational plans. It was like a locked attic in an old castle. Full of bones. Full of ghosts.The hallway was lined with shuttered windows and thick velvet drapes that hadn’t been drawn in months. Dust floate
Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 149. Itching Skin
Cali’s POV.The mansion was too quiet.Not in the peaceful, comfortable way silence sometimes wraps itself around a home—but in the hollow, waiting kind. The kind that settles in your bones and makes your skin itch. The kind that means something is about to happen, even if no one has said it aloud yet.Belle was asleep again. Rosalita had given her a warm bath, checked her meds, and tucked her in with that soft humming voice that somehow made even lupus feel like something small and conquerable. I’d sat beside the bed until Belle’s breathing evened out, brushing her hair back gently, whispering promises I didn’t know how to keep yet.I should’ve been able to rest. To let it go. The Telmun operation was gone. Burke was ash in the wind. The girls we rescued were eating real food, wearing clean clothes, and sleeping without the sound of metal doors clanking shut behind them.But none of it felt over.Because Hale was still digging. Still calling contacts. Still flipping through files and
Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 148. Rain
Hale’s POV.The rain had already started when the plane touched down. A slow, rhythmic drizzle that coated the tarmac in a sheen of gray, casting everything in a quiet, unearned calm. We didn’t speak much on the drive back to the estate. Cali leaned against the window with her arms folded, eyes vacant, still replaying the warehouse, the girls, the sounds—those damn sounds—of another kind of battlefield that didn’t require bullets to destroy a person.I knew that silence.The kind that came after a win that didn’t feel like a victory. We’d pulled seven girls from hell, exposed the Telmun operation for what it was, shut it down, and yet something in my chest still felt wound tight. Not out of fear. Not grief. Just pressure. Like the job wasn’t done. Like something bigger was still out there, watching, waiting to fill the vacuum we’d created.The estate appeared over the hill just before dawn. Lights glowing faintly behind tall windows. Calm. Untouched. I knew Rosalita would be up alread
Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 147. Aftershock
Hale’s POV.The morning the files go public, the world goes quiet.Not in the literal sense—phones ring, networks explode, media headlines scream across every digital surface within hours—but beneath all that, there’s a strange, still pressure in the air. Like the moment before a storm breaks. The wind pulling back. The sky holding its breath.The files hit at 5:32 AM, Eastern Standard. Swedish Independent Broadcast Network releases the story under a firewalled domain, with mirrored backups across five countries. Within minutes, twenty-seven names trend globally. Governments issue denials. NGOs call for tribunals. And a certain section of the international community just… goes dark.Disconnected phones. Deleted accounts. Empty buildings.They know what’s coming.By sunrise, at least twelve high-profile arrests are made across four countries. Two men “disappear” in transit between Prague and Amsterdam. A third throws himself out of a thirty-story window in São Paulo.Telmun is unraveli
Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 146. The End Of A Thread
Hale’s POV.It starts with a text.Blocked number. No metadata. No trace.But I know who it’s from.S: “Dover site. 3 hrs. Bring her. Bring heat. Don’t bring ghosts.”Dover.Not England.Dover is a code. A fallback location used by Telmun insiders when they’re ready to cut their losses and vanish. S mentioned it once, years ago—before he buried himself off-grid.The message means someone’s ready to talk.Or ready to die.Either way, I’m going.—Cali doesn’t argue when I tell her we’re leaving again. She just zips her bag shut, tucks her knives under her jacket, and meets me in the garage in under ten minutes. No questions. No whining. Just the same storm-eyed determination that scares the hell out of me and makes me love her more than I know how to say.We fly out that night.Touch down six hours later on a private airstrip in southern Albania. Vaughn meets us at the perimeter with new gear and a transport van that doesn’t look like much but could outrun half the Interpol fleet if pr
Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King 145. The Deep End
Hale’s POV.It’s nearly four in the morning, and I still haven’t slept.The house is dead quiet—every creak of floorboard, every tick of the clock magnified in the silence. I’ve moved to the east study, a room I rarely use. Cali’s asleep in the bedroom down the hall, or at least she was the last time I checked. I haven’t wanted to wake her. Not because I’m being noble. Because I’m afraid she’ll ask questions I can’t answer yet.I’ve gone through the files five times.The ones we photographed. The ones from the safehouse Vaughn secured. Every crate manifest, every shell company, every freight number, route, and customs clearance Burke ever touched. And none of it leads anywhere clean.Everything loops.Everything folds in on itself.Some of these entities haven’t just been dormant—they’ve been scrubbed. Professionally. No one erases like that without resources. Without government ties. And I’ve worked enough black contracts to know the difference between someone hiding from the law, an
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