In the gritty shadows of Chicago, Lucian “The Reaper” Moretti, the city’s most feared mafia kingpin, rules with a cold heart and a deadly hand—until Ethan Caldwell, a closeted FBI agent, shatters his world. For two years, Ethan lived a lie as “Evan,” Lucian’s trusted right hand man—battling the burn of forbidden lust while feeding the FBI the evidence to destroy him. But one reckless night, lust wins. In the heat of their only night together, bodies collide—just before the raid blows everything apart and Ethan’s betrayal is revealed. Now, after a year in prison, Lucian is free—and out for blood. Torn between vengeance and the ghost of Ethan’s touch, he begins the hunt. Meanwhile Ethan drowns in guilt, trapped in a fake engagement and a life built on lies. In a city where love is a death sentence, can two broken men survive each other, or will their blood-soaked bond tear them apart? A pulse-pounding MM mafia romance where betrayal cuts deep, obsession burns hotter than sin, and love may be the deadliest weapon of all.
View MoreChapter 95: Poisoned ShadowsETHAN’S POVThe dusk painted the sky orange as I sat in my office at the field office, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and Lucian’s lingering cologne on my shirt, my laptop glowing with an encrypted message that had haunted me for three days. Hayes’ dirt. End him. The files attached were bank records, shipment logs, emails—pointed to Director Hayes, his corruption tied to Viktor Salazar, and Ryan Kessler. My heart raced, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, my mind spinning. Who sent this? Who broke into Hayes’ computer? I hadn’t told Lucian, who was in Brazil sealing a deal, his absence was like a void in our condo. I leaned back, my Glock on the table, my confidence had been high ever since Sarah and Ryan’s arrest, I cut off my foster family. Life had been great for the past two weeks, Viktor had become a ghost, he’s been silent since his hospital stay. I felt untouchable, my enemies down, my life with Lucian a fire no one could extingu
Chapter 94: Traitor’s GameMARCO’S POVThe Washington rain battered my hoodie, its icy sting soaking through to my skin as I huddled under a flickering lamppost, the city’s gray skyline a blur through the downpour. My leg throbbed, the bullet wound from Lucian’s torture room, a constant ache, my toes are from his pliers, the bandages chafing, my blood seeping. Two weeks had passed since he chained me, doused me with ice water, and exiled me from Miami. My chest tightened, my breath ragged, my tears mixing with the rain, my heart heavy with regret. I know I deserved all the hate Lucian had for me, but I just can’t let him hate me forever. If there is a way to make things right, to prove that I’m a changed person, to make him forgive me, then it would be the way of exposing Hayes before he destroys Ethan.I’d followed Hayes to Washington, his office at the FBI headquarters was a fortress of secrets, his corruption tied to Viktor. They’d schemed to frame Ethan for money theft and cocain
Chapter 93: Family’s EndETHAN’S POVThe living room of my foster parents’ home buzzed with tension, the air thick with the scent of jasmine from the open windows and the weight of Sarah’s lies. Her frantic escape minutes ago left a void, the family’s shouts fading, their faces pale, their eyes darting between me and the door she’d fled through. I stood, my boots scuffing the hardwood, my black jacket open, my heart pounding with a mix of triumph and exhaustion. Sarah’s downfall—her affair with Ryan, her plot to pin his pregnancy on me, her role in framing me from Ryan’s crimes—had just played out on my phone, broadcast live to the world, the field office, and this room. I didn’t know what she was up to until Simmons had tipped me off two days about her recent tantrums at the field office. It was Lucian’s idea to confront her here in the presence of my entire family with the truth, and it worked perfectly. I smirked, a low chuckle escaping, the absurdity of their belief in her spark
Chapter 92: Fallen QueenSARAH’S POVThe dim glow of my apartment’s single lamp flickered, casting jagged shadows across the cracked walls, the air heavy with the sour tang of spilled coffee and my own desperation. I paced the creaky hardwood, my bare feet slapping, my heart hammering with frustration. Days had passed since my tantrum at the FBI field office, my lies about Ethan abandoning me and his supposed baby sparking whispers, hashtags, and promises—Giveon’s vow to split Ethan’s salary, my ticket to cash. But nothing came, no checks, no calls, just silence. I grabbed my phone, its screen cracked, my fingers swiping to Ethan’s number—still blocked, the error a slap. I hurled it onto the couch, its thud muffled, my scream tearing through the quiet, my hands clutching my hair, my tears hot. I sank onto the couch, my knees trembling, my hands cradling my belly. I’d planned to storm the field office again, wail louder, push harder, but my phone buzzed, Margaret’s name flashing, Et
Chapter 91: Pier Of DeceptionsETHAN’S POVThe Miami night pressed against the glass walls of Lucian’s secret condo, its Brickell hideout a fortress of shadows, the city’s neon pulse flickering below. I leaned against the balcony railing, the salt air sharp in my lungs, my black jacket open, my Glock’s weight a steady comfort at my hip. Lucian stood beside me, his silk shirt unbuttoned, his Beretta tucked into his jeans, his whiskey glass catching the light as he swirled it, his eyes glinting with a predator’s calm. My heart thudded, my beer bottle cold in my hand, my mind churning with Ryan Kessler’s betrayal—his tip to the FBI about the warehouse fight, his push to pin me for Lucian’s escape, his cousin Viktor Salazar’s syndicate a noose tightening around us. Ryan knew too much, his whispers would be a threat to our love, our freedom. My fingers gripped the bottle, my smirk hidden, my resolve a blade—Ryan would fall, his corruption exposed, my plan a fire to burn him down.Lucian t
Chapter 90: Tangled LiesSARAH’S POVThe fluorescent light in my apartment flickered, casting shadows across the peeling wallpaper, the air thick with the stale scent of coffee and despair. I paced the hardwood, my bare feet slapping, my pregnant belly straining against my tank top, my heart pounding with frustration. A week had passed since I’d spun my lies to the Caldwell’s, painting their foster son as the villain abandoning me and my baby, their eyes wide, their promises to rein him in ringing in my ears. But nothing—no call, no Ethan, no groveling. I grabbed my phone, its screen cracked my fingers swiping to Ethan’s number—still blocked, the bastard still had me on his block list. This isn’t happening to me. What would become of me then? What would people say about me? Oh my fucking heavens, I will be a wretched single mother to a child I might even hate when its born.I hurled the phone onto the couch, its thud muffled, my scream tearing through the silence, my hands clutching
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