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Chapter Fifty-six: Wanting that scream
Last Updated:
2025-09-20 00:25:44
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Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Sixty: Playful Spuint
Alessia’s POVPulling away, I gave Marcello a playful squint. “Okay, but spill it. How did this happen, Mr. Marcello Fernandez? Did you bribe the Director or the board with opera tickets? Blackmail them with karaoke videos? Or maybe…” I leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you sell your soul to Cassandra after all?”Marcello just smiled, patient as always. “None of the above. The director simply thought I was the right person for the job.”I gave him the look. The raised brow, the silent yeah right, and I’m the Pope.But instead of calling him out, I chuckled, shaking my head. I had always known he came from money—the suits too sharp, the cars too sleek. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out. Connections had probably helped, but I knew better than to poke. I hated when people meddled in my business. The least I could do was extend the same courtesy.So I grinned and said, “Well, however you managed it, you deserve it. Congratulations, Dr. Fancy Pants. Or should I start ca
Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Fifty-Nine: No more Stories
Alessia’s POVThe car was silent again. No more stories, no more confessions. Just the weight of everything hanging between us, suffocating and relentless.Then the locks clicked, releasing my door with a sound that felt too loud, too final.I sat there for a second, fingers resting on the handle but unmoving, because even with my way open, something in his words had rooted me in place. As much as I wanted to brush off his confession, as much as I wanted to cling to the hatred that kept me sane, a small voice whispered that Leo wasn’t lying.And I hated that.I hated that the part of me that wanted to believe him was louder than I wanted it to be.For the first time, I realized Leo wasn’t just Damiano’s shadow. He was another prisoner—one who had chosen his cage. And maybe that was why his words clung to me, even as I tried to shake them off.Because no matter how tightly I wrapped myself in anger, no matter how sharp my tongue, his confession had cracked something open inside me.An
Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Fifty-Eight : Monsters everywhere again
Alessia’s POVI clenched my arms tighter across my chest, forcing a laugh that sounded a little too thin. “Don’t worry, Leo. Like I said, I’ve survived worse monsters than you and your precious Damiano. If your little speech is supposed to scare me, you’ll have to try harder.”This time, he didn’t answer. He just pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine growling as the car surged forward. His silence was louder than any insult he could’ve thrown at me.And somehow, that silence gnawed at me more than his anger ever could.Like guilt.***The rest of the ride was completely silent.The hospital loomed in front of us, its pale walls and sterile windows catching the late morning sun like some kind of sanctuary.Relief flickered in my chest—finally, freedom, even if just for a while. I could almost smell the antiseptic, hear the faint buzz of machines, and see the white coats of my colleagues moving through the halls. My halls. My world.I reached for the handle, already picturing m
Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Fifty-seven: Monster everywhere
Alessia’s POVLeo’s silence after that speech of his should’ve been comforting, but instead it gnawed at me, digging under my skin like a splinter I couldn’t pull out. I stared at him, at the sharp lines of his jaw, at the way his eyes refused to meet mine.What did he mean by Damiano being a monster I had never met before. What did he know about monsters? I've dealt with them all my life. They came in different sizes, heights, genders, skin, and clothes—all offering to treat my brother and me better than the other would've. So, yeah. I've seen enough.My chest tightened with a mixture of defiance and curiosity, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.“You know nothing about me, Leo. Nothing about what I’ve been through, seen, or what I’ve survived. But I know enough about Damiano. He’s a killer. And killers like him don’t deserve freedom. They deserve to be locked up for eternity—or better yet, put down like a—”The car screeched to a halt so suddenly as he slammed t
Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Fifty-six: Wanting that scream
Alessia’s POVDamiano smirked, satisfied. “Good. You have till six in the evening. Don’t be late.”And just like that, he dismissed me, turning back to his glass as though I were already forgotten.I wanted to scream. Instead, I walked out, my bag clutched tight, Leo trailing after me with the key still in his hand. Catarina shot me a glance that was equal parts pity and worry, and I gave her the smallest smile I could muster.The hallway swallowed me up, and finally, finally, I let out the breath I had been holding. My shoulders sagged, my fists curled, and I whispered under my breath, “Dog, huh? Let’s see what happens when the mutt learns how to bite.”I already had a plan. Plan A: behave. Plan B: get to Marcello. Plan C: ditch Leo without ending up in a ditch myself.And if all else failed? Plan D: hope those freaky dream-superpowers decided to show up. Because honestly, if I could set Damiano’s ego on fire, it might just be worth it.***The car was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of q
Claimed by the Mafia King Chapter Fifty-Five: Brushing Thoughts away
Alessia’s POVI brushed the thought away. Why waste my time thinking about something like that?Besides, this was my chance to leave this house. It was handed to me on a platter of gold. So, I had to make use of it.I showered and dressed like freedom was a person and that I wanted to seduce him.Not too much, of course—I wasn’t about to show up in sequins and stilettos—but just enough to remind myself that I was still human and not some live-in doctor-and-dog mixed-breed creature. I pulled on jeans that hugged all the right places, a white blouse that said, I’m civilized, thank you very much, and sneakers because… well, running might actually be on the agenda. A little mascara, some lip gloss—because I might be emotionally unhinged, but my eyelashes didn’t have to suffer.Halfway through brushing my hair, I caught myself staring in the mirror. And there he was again. Damiano. Not literally behind me, (thank God, I would have screamed and launched the hairbrush at him) but in my head
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