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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BECOMING ONE

작가: Bara
last update 게시일: 2026-07-04 01:07:18

Lena’s POV

I watch him as he leans down. His mouth finds mine in this gentle way, almost like he’s staking his claim

He lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me out of his office. I stay silent. Shock has hollowed me out, left me floating.

He pushes our bedroom door open and sets me down. My feet touch the floor, but I don’t feel grounded.

He walks into the bathroom, without saying another word.

Something snaps in me.

I don’t recognize the woman who starts shedding her bl
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  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER TWENTY: THE GALA

    Dante’s pov The drive back from my uncle’s house on the other side of the estate drags. I sit in the back with Ricardo, jaw tight. Someone tried to kill Lena. They’re still breathing. That’s a problem I intend to fix. “Double the men on the search,” I tell him. “I want names by morning. Someone touched what’s mine and is still breathing that’s a slap to my face.” “I’m doing my best, boss,” Ricardo says. “Then do better.” The car stops. I’m out before he can answer. Maria’s waiting inside. “How was she today?” She wrings her hands. “Not good. Her mother came. They argued. She hasn’t left the room since.” Something sharp twists in my chest. “Did she eat?” “Not after the argument.” I nod and head upstairs. Lena’s curled up on our bed, drowning in the blanket. She looks small. So breakable. “How are you?” I keep my voice low, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She startles, then softens when she sees me. “You’re back. How did your meeting go?” Meeti

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE AFTERMATH

    Lena’s POV It’s been three days since the kidnapping. Three days, and Dante and his men still don’t know who took me or why. So I sit here at the estate, under Dante’s watchful gaze, waiting. My mother came to visit right after it happened. She checked on me, fussed over me. Now she shows up every day. It pisses Dante off. He doesn’t like her, though he won’t say why. Tonight I’m alone in bed. Dante’s on the other side of the estate dealing with some problem he won’t explain. I’m just... waiting. But I can’t sit around anymore. My best friend is dead. I won’t rest until I get justice for her. A knock at the door pulls me out of my head. I sit up, expecting Dante. It’s Maria. “Ma, your mother is here,” she says. I groan. I love my mother. But right now, I just want to be alone. “Tell her I’ll be down,” I say. Maria nods and leaves. I get up, fix my hair, and straighten my shirt. Downstairs, I find her on the couch. She stands and h

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: GRIEF

    Lena’s POV I cling to Dante, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. He strokes my hair, one hand cradling the back of my head while I curl into his lap in the backseat. The heat from him is the only thing keeping the cold from swallowing me whole. My throat is raw. Words feel like glass. But I force them out anyway. “Dante.” His head turns from the window instantly. All of his focus snaps to me. “Is Trisha okay?” My voice cracks. He frowns, like he’s searching his memory. Like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about. “My friend,” I push, panic rising. “She was shot. At the store. Is she— is she okay?” Dante’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is too careful. Too measured. “I don’t know yet,” Dante says. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now. Just focus on yourself. Breathe for me, okay?” He’s dismissing it. But I can’t breathe. Because I saw her eyes. I saw them go still. I

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE RESCUE

    Dante’s POV The meeting is dragging. My uncle’s been talking for twenty minutes straight about the Colombians, detailing every shipment, every margin, every goddamn decimal like I don’t already have the numbers memorized. I want to be home. With Lena. In my bed. Where I can remind her exactly who she belongs to. But I can’t have this conversation there. Not with her in the next room. There are things she doesn’t need to hear. “Dante.” My uncle’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He’s noticed I checked out. I lift an eyebrow. What? “You’re hardly paying attention,” he says, annoyed. I sit up straighter, let the shift in posture do the talking. The room goes quiet. Every man at this table knows what happens when I stop looking bored. “Last I checked,” I say, voice low, “I run this family.” It’s not a threat. I don’t need to make threats. They hear the promise anyway. I scan the table. “I’ll speak to the Colombians when I’m good and ready. Not

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE ATTACK

    Lena’s POV: I stretch, then still. There’s a mouth at my neck. Warm. Deliberate. I open my eyes slowly. Dante. His head is buried against my throat, teeth grazing just enough to sting. Marking me. Something shifted last night. In him. In me. And for the first time since he dragged me into this world, I don’t hate it. “Morning,” I murmur, interrupting him. “Morning, mi amata,” he says, and kisses me once more like he’s sealing the word in. Then he’s up. Naked. Walking away from the bed. I miss the weight of him instantly. “As much as I’d like to keep you in this bed all day,” he says, pulling on his pants, “I have work.” I sit up straighter. The sheet slips. His eyes drop to my chest and darken. I yank the blanket higher. He smirks like he caught me. I hate that it makes my stomach flip. While he buttons his shirt, I stare at the ceiling. What the hell am I supposed to do all day? Wander this gilded cage? Count the hours until he comes back to rem

  • Forced bride of mafia king   CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BECOMING ONE

    Lena’s POV I watch him as he leans down. His mouth finds mine in this gentle way, almost like he’s staking his claim He lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me out of his office. I stay silent. Shock has hollowed me out, left me floating. He pushes our bedroom door open and sets me down. My feet touch the floor, but I don’t feel grounded. He walks into the bathroom, without saying another word. Something snaps in me. I don’t recognize the woman who starts shedding her blood-stained clothes. Piece by piece. Until there’s nothing between me and the air. I stand in the middle of the room naked. I don’t know why I’m doing this, if it’s grief or rage or the need to prove I can still choose something — anything. The tap shuts off. He steps out with his hands clean now, no more blood on them. He freezes when he sees me. I move to the bed now as his eyes watch me. I sit on the bed and widen my legs so he gets a good view. “What are you doing?” he asks,

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