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Chapter Eighty Seven
Last Updated:
2026-02-22 18:04:40
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His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty-Eight
Alessia's POV The peck on the cheek lingered longer than any full kiss ever could have.I stood frozen in the living room long after Salvatore disappeared down the hallway, fingers pressed to the spot where his lips had rested. Warmth radiated from my skin like he had branded me there. My stomach fluttered wildly, a swarm of butterflies that refused to settle. One second he was distant, respectful, keeping every touch careful and chaste. The next he looked at me like I was the only person breathing in the entire city.I could not understand him anymore.Guila’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Dinner in ten. And breathe, cara. You look like you just saw a ghost.”I managed a weak smile and sank onto the sofa again, legs still unsteady. The butterflies refused to leave. Every time I closed my eyes I felt the soft press of his mouth, the way he had lingered just long enough to make my pulse race, then pulled away like nothing had happened.Dinner passed in a blur. Lorenzo returned fro
His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty Seven
Alessia's POV The week unfolded beautifully despite the tension that lingered between us.We stayed in the hotel suite, cut off from the world. Salvatore arranged everything with quiet efficiency: meals delivered three times a day, fresh linens, my favorite tea, even a small sewing machine when I mentioned wanting to work on sketches. He turned the sitting area into a temporary studio, moving furniture without complaint, laying out bolts of fabric he must have had delivered overnight.He was there for every breath I took.He woke before me, brought breakfast on a tray, fed me small bites when bending forward pulled at my ribs. He changed dressings with the same steady hands that had once held guns, applied arnica to fading bruises, held compresses to my swollen cheek until the ache eased. When nightmares dragged me from sleep,he was already awake, pulling me against his chest, murmuring soft words in dialect until I drifted off again.He ignored every phone call.The screen lit const
His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty Six
Alessia’s POVForgiveness did not come easily.I wanted it to. Some part of me ached for the simplicity of letting go, of leaning into his chest and pretending the years of silence, bitterness, the bruises on my body, the terror of the warehouse could be erased with a single embrace. But every time I looked at him, I saw the secrets he had kept. The choices he had made without me. The life he had lived that had almost cost me mine and what he did to my family.So I stayed.Not because I had forgiven him but because leaving felt impossible.He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for absolution or declarations. He simply existed in the space I allowed him.Evening crept in through the heavy hotel curtains. The room was warm, softly lit by a single lamp. Salvatore disappeared for a while and returned pushing a room-service cart. Simple food: clear broth, plain rice, steamed vegetables, a little grilled chicken cut into small pieces. Nothing heavy. He had asked the doctor what would be kindest to
His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty Five
He carried me for what felt like forever, long after my threat to kill him if he put me down had lost its edge. His arms never wavered. I stayed curled against his chest on the sofa, listening to the steady thump of his heart, letting the warmth of him chase away the last chills of the warehouse. Sicily glittered beyond the windows, indifferent and beautiful, as if the city hadn’t almost lost a precious soul like me today.Eventually my legs stopped trembling and the dizziness ebbed. I shifted in his lap, testing my balance.“I think I can stand now,” I murmured.He didn’t argue. He simply rose, still holding me, and carried me back to the bed. This time when he lowered me onto the pillows, I didn’t protest. The mattress was soft. He arranged the covers over me with careful hands, then sat on the edge, close enough that his knee brushed the blanket.The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the city and our breathing.I studied his face in the low lamplight. Exhaustion etched l
His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty Four
Francesca’s POVThe pain in my leg was nothing compared to the fire in my chest. I had hit my leg against the door, when I heard that Salvatore appeared like Prince Charming and saved her!I had gone to the safe house after Salvatore left the sight of what I saw made me very pissed. I sat in the back of a nondescript car. I was being driven back home. When I heard that Salvatore had come for her, I thought it was a joke till I saw it myself.He had raided the warehouse like a one-man army, took out half my crew in minutes, and carried Alessia out in his arms like some romantic hero.She was alive and safe…with him.I wanted to scream until my throat bled.All of it—years of waiting, of careful planning, of believing he was mine alone—gone. Stolen by that spoiled, pretty bitch who didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as him.I had been very sure the kidnapping would end her. I had been sure that no one would come to her rescue or find her and even if they did, it would be too l
His Queen,Their War Chapter Eighty Three
Alessia’s POVI squeezed my eyes shut.The metal barrel pressed cold and steady against my forehead. I could feel the ridged texture of the silencer, the faint vibration of the man’s hand. My heart thundered so violently I thought it might burst before the bullet did. Every breath tasted like blood and dust. Every second stretched into eternity.I waited for the end.For the pressure. For the flash and for death. But nothing came.Only a soft, metallic click.The gun was empty. A beat of stunned silence.Then the man holding my hair cursed under his breath. “Merda.”The woman snarled from somewhere behind him. “You idiot! Reload!”The pressure on my scalp eased as the man shifted, fumbling. My head fell forward, chin to chest. I sucked in a ragged breath, it was a half-sob and a half-laugh. I was alive, for now.And then the world exploded.Gunfire erupted outside. I heard shouts in Italian. The crash of a metal door made me jerk.The kidnappers spun toward the noise.“Che cazzo—” one
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