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12. GIULIANNA
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2025-05-24 01:18:48
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His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 102. GIULIANNA
Smoke curled around the edges of the room, thick and clinging, like fingers trying to drag us under. The scent of gunpowder hung heavy in the air, bitter and sharp, mixing with the stifling heat of panic. I crouched beside the worn couch, one hand pressed against Sofia’s damp forehead, the other covering her nose. At first, I thought she was just covering it not until I saw blood drops from her fingers.I could feel the rhythm of Matteo’s boots pacing across the wooden floor behind me. Controlled, heavy, steady. But every step he took echoed like a scream in my ears. He was trying not to panic, but I could feel the storm radiating off him. Just beneath his skin, just behind his silence, rage boiled.Enzo hadn’t answered the last call.“Matteo,” I whispered, my throat dry. “The back door. I think I heard movement.” I didn’t dare raise my voice, not when every creak and breath might alert them outside. The Diavlo Scuri were trying to hold the line, but we all knew it was temporary. Emma
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 101. GIULIANNA
Teresa hadn’t stopped shaking.She sat hunched over on the far end of the couch, clutching that old canvas satchel like it was stitched together with her last breath. Her skin was pale beneath the filth, the kind of sickly color that spoke of days without sleep, weeks without safety. Matteo stood near the door, still rigid, still unreadable, like he was waiting for her to explode into something else. Something dangerous.I draped the blanket over her shoulders and stepped back, arms crossed, heart pacing faster than I wanted to admit."Start talking," Matteo said, low, measured.Teresa’s hands fumbled with the zipper. She struggled for a second, then yanked it open with trembling fingers. A battered leather file folder slid out, swollen with documents, photographs, receipts. She laid them across the coffee table like a gambler showing her cards, like they’d be enough to buy her life.I moved closer, kneeling on the floor beside the table.The topmost sheet was a wire transfer. Huge. O
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 100. GIULIANNA
The cabin was warmer than usual, thick with the smell of pine smoke and faint citrus from the cleaner I used on the counters. Sofia was asleep upstairs, finally, and I was trying to keep my hands busy, wiping things that didn’t need wiping, folding throws that were already folded.The night outside pressed against the windows like a weight. Too still. No crickets, no owls, not even the trees whispering in the wind. That silence again. The kind that had teeth.I didn’t like it.Matteo had stepped out to make a call an hour ago. Said it wouldn’t take long. I knew better. He wasn’t just checking in—he was preparing. Pulling strings. Counting ghosts.I was just about to turn off the kitchen light when I heard it.A fist. Hard. Wild. Desperate. It was banging like it was impatient and needed to be tend to.Someone was knocking on our door like they thought it would save their life.My heart slammed into my ribs. My hand automatically reached for the drawer, fingers wrapping around the pist
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 99. MATTEO
The cold didn’t bother me. My blood ran too hot.I flicked the cigarette off the porch, watched the ember spiral into the dark like a dying star. There was a stillness in the trees that didn’t feel right. Not the good kind. Not peace. The kind of quiet that came before a storm. Before a scream. The kind of quiet I’d grown to trust more than most people.I knew I should go inside. Crawl back into bed with her. Pretend, just for a little while, that the war wasn’t already moving in our direction like smoke through the cracks. But I couldn’t. That part of me, the one that never really came back from the blood and fire he wouldn’t let me.I reached under the porch bench and pulled out the steel case I hadn’t touched in a year. The hinges creaked, reluctant, like they knew what opening it meant. Inside: two modified pistols, a pair of knives wrapped in cloth, and a burner phone with three contacts. I stared at them like they were ghosts. Because they were. Ghosts of a man I’d buried when I
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 98. MATTEO
The fire had burned low in the hearth, but it was enough to cast a faint glow across the floorboards. The kind of light that made everything feel quieter than it really was. Giuli had gone to tuck Sofia in hours ago, but I could still smell her on my skin. Her warmth lingered on the collar of my shirt, on my mouth, in every goddamn breath I took.I stood by the window, one hand braced against the frame, the other wrapped around a half-empty glass of whiskey. Beyond the glass, the lake shimmered under the moonlight. Calm. Still.It didn’t match the way my chest felt.Enzo’s words still played like static in the back of my head. That name, Emmanuele, cracked through my peace like a match against dry wood. Just the sound of it dragged every instinct I’d tried to bury back to the surface. The monster I’d caged since the night I got Giuli and Sofia out? He was waking up again. Slowly. But not without purpose.He’s alive. Or someone wants us to think he is.And if that someone was baiting m
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 97. MATTEO
Still intact. I exhaled, breath fogging the air. I’d been preparing since the night Giuli let me back into that house. Since I held her in front of the fire, her body arching into mine like a lifeline. Since I kissed her and tasted everything I thought I’d lost. I knew peace wouldn’t last. I just didn’t think it’d come unraveled this fast. A twig snapped behind me. Not loud—but close. I straightened slowly, hand instinctively going for the switchblade in my coat pocket. My ears honed in. A breath. Another step. “Thought I taught you to walk quieter,” I murmured. Enzo’s voice answered behind me, winded. “You did.” I turned to find him leaning against a tree, scarf half-wrapped around his neck, a flask in hand. He took a long swig and offered it to me. “Whiskey. You look like you need it.” I took it, not because I wanted it, but because we both knew what was coming. And fire was better than fear. “You follow me out here just to babysit?” I asked, handing it back. “No,” he s
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