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2025-08-05 19:27:17
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Fifty Shades Of Lovia The Last blow
The loft had become our war room, maps and burner phones scattered across the kitchen island like battle scars on skin. Rain hammered the windows, a relentless drumbeat that matched the pulse in my temples. Four days since the dock hit, and Alejandro's empire was fracturing—clubs burned, funds frozen, men turning or dying. But he wasn't broken yet. Not until I put the bullet in him myself.Shane paced, phone to his ear, coordinating with our thin network of allies. Nadia had fed us the final piece: Alejandro's hideout, a fortified mansion upstate, where he holed up with his wife Clarissa and his last loyal crew. "Twenty men," Shane said, hanging up. "Armed heavy. Clarissa's there—hostage or not, she's collateral."I sipped coffee, black and bitter, staring at the satellite photo. Clarissa—blonde, vicious, Alejandro's equal in cruelty. She'd run the girls' side of YBA, luring them with promises before chaining them. "No mercy," I said, voice flat. "She dies with him."Shane stopped
Fifty Shades Of Lovia The escape Route
The safe house was a nondescript brownstone in Brooklyn, tucked away on a quiet street where the neighbors minded their own business and the nuns who ran it asked no questions. We pulled up just as dawn cracked the horizon, the sky bleeding pink and orange like a fresh wound. The van's engine ticked as it cooled, and I could hear the girls in the back—whispers in languages I half-understood, sniffles muffled by exhaustion and relief. Twenty lives pulled from the brink, their chains still dangling from wrists like grim jewelry. Shane killed the headlights, his face shadowed but eyes sharp, scanning the street for tails."We're clear," he muttered, hand on his Glock as he stepped out. I followed, my shoulder throbbing under the hasty bandage—blood seeping through, a hot reminder of the graze. The fog from the docks clung to our clothes, mixing with the metallic tang of gunpowder and sweat.Sister Maria met us at the door, her habit crisp despite the hour, eyes kind but knowing. She'd
Fifty Shades Of Lovia The retaliation
The loft felt smaller after the meet at Eclipse, the walls pressing in with the weight of secrets and strategies. Rain slashed against the windows like accusing fingers, the storm outside mirroring the one brewing in my chest. I shed the Evelyn Pierce disguise in pieces, wig tossed into the sink, pearls unclasped and dropped onto the vanity, the black dress peeled off like a layer of deceit. Naked in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection: bruises from Shane's earlier grip fading on my hips, the faint scar from a old knife fight snaking across my ribs, eyes sharp with the thrill of the game. The flash drive sat on the counter, innocuous plastic holding the potential to topple an empire. Nadia, Marcus, and Victor had given me the ammunition, but firing it meant stepping into the crosshairs.I wrapped myself in a silk robe, the fabric whispering against my skin as I padded back to the living room. Shane was there, as always—my anchor in the chaos. He lounged on the couch, l
Fifty Shades Of Lovia The Trade
The city lights blurred into streaks as I drove back from Eclipse, the burner phone buzzing in my clutch like a live wire. Shane’s text glowed on the screen: Home yet? Need you. Simple words, but they carried the weight of his worry—and his hunger. I smiled, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. The flash drive from Nadia burned a hole in my thoughts. If it was legit, we’d have Alejandro by the balls. If not… well, that’s why I had Victor’s video as backup. The mayor’s secret moans echoed in my mind, a weapon sharper than any blade.I pulled into the loft’s garage, the engine’s rumble dying as I killed the ignition. The space was dim, concrete walls echoing my heels as I headed for the elevator. My mind raced ahead—verifying the intel, looping Shane in, planning the hit. Four nights. That’s all we had to turn their tip into Alejandro’s nightmare.The door clicked open, and there he was: Shane, shirtless in low-slung sweats, leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of w
Fifty Shades Of Lovia The Meeting
LOVIA’S POV:The VIP lounge at Eclipse felt like a velvet-lined trap: low amber lighting, leather booths that swallowed sound, the faint pulse of jazz curling around cigar smoke and expensive perfume. I sat in the corner booth with my back to the wall, legs crossed, martini glass cradled loosely in one manicured hand. Evelyn Pierce—blonde wig flawless, pearls glowing against my throat, black dress cut just low enough to distract without screaming desperation. The perfect mask.They arrived separately, like cautious animals testing the water.Nadia first. Tall, raven-haired, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. The red dress clung to her like a warning. She slid in across from me, diamond choker flashing as she leaned forward. “Ms. Pierce. Thank you for coming.”“Evelyn, please,” I said, voice smooth, cultured. “And thank you for the invitation. I’m always interested when powerful people want to rewrite the rules.”Marcus Hale next—mid-sixties, silver hair slicked back, bespoke sui
Fifty Shades Of Lovia Caught in the Act
LOVIA’S POV The loft still hummed with the aftermath of our night—sweat-slicked sheets tangled on the bed, the faint scent of sex lingering in every corner like a secret we couldn’t erase. Shane dozed beside me, his arm thrown possessively over my waist, chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm that always grounded me after chaos. But peace was a lie in our world. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the unknown number flashing like a warning. I slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded to the bathroom, closing the door softly before answering.“Evelyn Pierce,” I said, my voice pitched higher, softer—the polished accent of the socialite disguise I’d worn to the gala. No one knew Lovia and Evelyn were one and the same. Not yet.A woman’s voice came through, husky and cautious, with a faint Eastern European lilt. “Ms. Pierce? This is Nadia. We met at the gala—briefly. You were... intriguing.”I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection: mussed
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