Sweet Mafia Protector

Lyra’s POV “LYRAAAA!" Meera’s scream tore through the mansion, sharp enough to shatter glass. I flinched but didn’t move, gripping the broom in my hands like a lifeline. Again. Whatever petty complaint she had this time, I wasn’t in the mood. Not today. I’ve had enough. But then, what followed was unusual. Silence. No second shout. No stomping footsteps. Just… stillness. Something was wrong. I forced myself down the stairs, my pulse hammering in my throat. The dining room doors were wide open, and the moment I stepped inside, the air turned to ice. Meera sat at the table, smirking. Uncle Zorah lounged beside her, his fingers steepled like a king on his throne. And across from them— A stranger. Old. Too old. Heavy-lidded eyes that crawled over me like damp fingers. A smile too wide, too hungry. “Ah. Here she is." Uncle Zorah slid a document across the table, the gold seal glinting under the chandelier. “Sign”. It wasn’t a request . It was a command. I star

Lyra’s POV The plan was simple. The only way to avoid this forced marriage was to run away and never return. But I knew I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help but who would be willing? No one in this house would dare go against Uncle Zorah’s orders. Then it clicked. There was only one person I could trust with the escape plan.…Tracy. If sending letters was a thing of the past, my best friend—Tracy—and I were starting to bring it back. For the last few days, Uncle Zorah had shut me from the outside world—not that I was given free will in the first place. He seized my phone, my only company, and locked me up in my room. He was terrified I'd make an escape and ruin the marriage, but I wasn't just going to sit here and allow him send me off to some fucking old man with salt and peppered hair. I love Tracy with all my heart. She figured something was wrong when I obviously couldn't reply to her texts. She came knocking on my window days after and it became a habit to send letters down t

Lyra’s POV“Hell's pit?” I whispered, leaning hard against the wall. For some reason, the guard’s last words echoed in my ears like he was right here to whisper them in my ears. ‘You're the one who's going to hell for your crimes’. Was this it? Hell?I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, “What do you mean by hell's pit?” Each breath was agonizingly painful, and with each second that passed by, I kept regretting my actions of not claiming my life when I had the chance. From the little one's words, I needed no soothsayer to tell me I had been sold to this HELL'S PIT by Zorah. I kept my gaze on the girl with the whip, slightly stunned by her revealing dress. Only her nipples were covered with the transparent top she was putting on, and through the lacy shorts, I could see the traces of her curved ass staring back at me. I tore my gaze away, staring at the dried up blood on my knuckles, “Why am I here?” The whip lady took slow strides towards me, stroking the whip seductively like it

Meera’s POVI stood at the edge of the stairs, my breath shallow, my body tensing as the sneeze tickled the back of my throat. It was almost unbearable. My eyes watered, and I could feel my nostrils twitching with the impending eruption. Holding my breath, I fought it, wanting to be in control. I didn’t want to show any weakness in front of him. But, of course, just as I thought I could manage it, the sneeze came crashing through, an involuntary explosion of air. It echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls like a distant gunshot. I rubbed my nose hastily, frustrated with my own body.At the top of the stairs, I waited. Still, I had to admit I was feeling a little impatient. The clock was ticking. There was no time to waste. I could hear my father’s movements coming from upstairs, the creak of his footsteps signaling his descent. I took a deep breath, the air sharp as it filled my lungs, and turned to face the living room.I couldn’t stand waiting any longer. If he wasn’t going

Lyra’s POV His lips twitched into something between a grin and a snarl. "You’re a firebird, aren’t you? I like that." He withdrew his hand slowly, the amusement never leaving his face. "You will be mine, Lyra. Whether you accept it or not.""Is that supposed to scare me?" I asked, my voice sharp. "Because it doesn’t."His smile faded, replaced by a steely look. "It will."I stared at him, defiant, refusing to let him see the flicker of fear that threatened to rise. I wasn’t going to bend. I wasn’t going to break."Maybe not," he mused, his fingers curling into a fist. "But I’ll make you want to be. And when you do, you’ll realize just how little control you ever had."The sharp wind outside the prison cut through me like a blade, but it wasn’t the cold that chilled me now—it was the weight of Miss Caroline’s words, still echoing in my mind, rattling through my chest like a death knell. I’m nothing. Her voice, venomous and cold, played on a loop in my thoughts, each repetition digging