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72. GIULIANNA
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2025-06-26 23:17:12
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His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 72. GIULIANNA
Matteo didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. But I could see the fear in his eyes. It was wild, untamed, bleeding through the cracks of the man he tried to be. “I’ll kill them all.” “We might not have to,” Enzo added, voice sharp. “Some of Don Rossi’s men were taken out by friendly fire. I think some of them were our tourist friends from middle east.” Matteo looked up, surprised. “You sure?” “Caught them using their own hand signals while the Rossi men advanced. And it's only our friend's from the middle east who have such thing.Matteo… we have a shot at flipping this war on them.” I gripped Sofia closer, my voice hoarse. “Then finish it. For her.” Matteo leaned in and kissed me once, hard and desperate. “For us.” Then he rose again like a soldier stepping back onto the battlefield and vanished up the stairs, fire in his blood, vengeance on his tongue. And I stayed where I was, holding our daughter like she was the last light left in the world.I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing un
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 71. GIULIANNA
The walls trembled. It wasn’t just from the gunfire now. It was from the sheer pressure in my chest, the kind that made it impossible to breathe. Every second ticked like a countdown. My knees had gone numb from kneeling beside Sofia on the blood-stained table, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t care. My world had narrowed into this one image OF her pale face, barely blinking, her lashes clumped with sweat, blood trailing from her hairline down her cheek like a cruel ribbon. Enzo’s gloves were soaked red. He had managed to stitch the wound closed, but it didn’t stop. Her blood was thinner than it should’ve been. She wasn’t clotting fast enough. Her lips trembled as if trying to speak but failing every time. “Come on, sweetheart.” I whispered against her forehead, tears slipping freely now. “Don’t leave me. Don’t… please don’t go quiet.” Enzo didn’t look up. His fingers pressed into her wrist, searching again for her pulse. “Still dropping,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Goddamn i
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 70. GIULIANNA
The wind had never felt so sharp.It had teeth, tearing through my dress and skin like paper as we roared down the winding country roads. Matteo's body was solid against mine, a shield, a furnace of adrenaline and muscle I clung to with everything I had. His back rose and fell beneath my palms, steady as the chaos behind us tried to catch up. My heart was in my throat, beating so loud I thought it would drown out the engine's scream.Sofia’s scream echoed louder.She had been hit.I couldn’t stop shaking. My lungs burned with every breath as we raced toward the one place we might be safe for now despite me having doubts at it first, the old Diavlo Scuri clubhouse. Matteo had one hand on the throttle, the other gripping his gun as we careened around every sharp bend and blind curve. Behind us, I could hear the rest of the crew. Enzo’s voice tight and panicked, Crow shouting directions into the wind, Angelo cursing under his breath.Sofia’s blood had soaked through the lace of her flowe
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 69. MATTEO
The wind was sharp against my face as we ripped down the country road, the thunder of Matteo’s bike vibrating through my bones. My arms were locked tightly around his waist, my cheek pressed to the leather of his jacket, heart still galloping from the chaos we’d left behind. It should’ve felt terrifying, riding into the unknown with the echoes of gasps and gunfire in our wake. But it didn’t. It felt like freedom.The sun was bleeding into the horizon, streaks of orange and violet painting the sky as we wove through winding roads and stretches of open fields. Behind us, the rest of the crew followed like black hounds in formation. Enzo had Sofia, and I could see her tiny form nestled into him, arms wrapped around his chest, her dark curls fluttering in the breeze. She was safe. For now.Matteo’s grip on the handlebars was firm, controlled, like he was part of the machine itself. Every movement he made was calculated, he leaned just enough into the curves, accelerated in bursts, always
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 68. MATTEO
The first thing I heard was the music, it was elegant, delicate strings floating through the air like a lullaby before the slaughter. The kind of sound meant to mask fear. To dress up cruelty in a tuxedo and call it tradition. Then came the scent of roses, hundreds of them, thick and sweet, trying to bury the rot underneath this entire event. The smell of old money. Of power draped in white.And then I saw her.Giulianna.Frozen halfway down the aisle, like a goddess bound in silk and shame. Her gown shimmered under the afternoon sun, but she looked like she was walking to her own execution. My throat burned at the sight of her. I could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the tremble in her jaw, the way her father’s grip on her arm wasn’t guidance, it was ownership. Every step she took felt like a betrayal of who she was. But she kept walking. Because that’s what they wanted her to do.Not anymore.The growl of our engines shattered the hush.We didn’t roll in quietly. We didn’t slip
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 67. MATTEO
We didn’t just ride into hell, we stalked it first.The estate was a sprawling lie stretched over acres of manicured deceit. Golden gates loomed at the front, iron wrought like a crown of arrogance. But I knew better than to go through the front. A place like this wasn’t built without cracks. Weakness. And I’d memorized every one of them.At the break of dawn, we killed the engines a mile away from the property, hidden by thick woods and the sharp curve of a hillside. Fog rolled low across the grass, curling like smoke between the trees, shrouding us in shadow. Perfect.We moved on foot first, splitting into units like phantoms through the trees. I led point, Crow at my flank, Enzo covering rear. Each man was silence incarnate. No unnecessary movements, no wasted breath. We slipped between branches and over fences like wolves on a hunt, boots silent against the soil. I’d studied the blueprints of the estate like scripture. I knew the shift changes, the dead zones in camera coverage, t
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