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A LINE WE CAN'T UNCROSS
Last Updated:
2025-06-19 02:50:47
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KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON A LOVE DRENCHED IN BLOOD
Raymond arrives late that evening, his arrival resembling a tempest battering the estate's walls. I can hear his footsteps before I spot him, heavy and intentional, resembling a person bearing the burden of a hundred wrongdoings on his back. Upon entering the room, his shirt bears stains-not from wine, nor from ink, but from blood. I become immobile. Not that I'm unaccustomed to this view, but each time I see him in this manner, it triggers my memories. It makes me remember who he is. What he performs. Whom I am falling for. Initially, he ignores me, going directly to the whiskey decanter at the bar and pouring a glass with the effortless skill of someone who has done this countless times. The space between us grows tense like a bind. I inhale unsteadily. "Did you... commit another murder tonight?" Raymond halts his drink momentarily, his gaze darting toward me. His face remains unchanged, yet the room's temperature decreases. He places his glass down gently with a subtle c
KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON A LINE WE CAN'T UNCROSS
I'm uncertain about how long I remain there, gazing into Raymond's eyes, my breathing still irregular from the kiss. The outside world seems distant from this room, like a dream that has faded from my memory. The only sounds I perceive are my heartbeat pounding in my chest, his calm breathing, and the lasting resonance of the moment we just experienced. An embrace. Not merely a kiss. A kiss that transforms everything. A kiss that leaves a trace-an unseen wound I know I can never remove. Raymond observes me intently, his deep eyes shimmering with an emotion I can't identify, something that should instill fear in me. However, fear is the least emotion I experience. I sense- God, I can't even identify my emotions. I ought to distance myself. I need to create space between us, act as if this never took place, act as if I don't have these feelings. However, I am unable to. Since he continues to hold me. The heat of his hands on my waist makes it hard to forget that he just kis
KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON A UNIQUE BIRTHDAY EXPERIENCE
The initial sound I perceive is music. Not the gentle, remote melody of a tune coming from the radio. No, this is boisterous, forceful, intense-a fusion of trumpets, drums, and voices merging into a magnificent symphony that shakes the surrounding atmosphere. My eyelids blink open, and for a brief moment, I'm trapped between the blurred traces of slumber and the strange reality before me. The door opens wide. The unexpected light bursts in, exposing a procession of musicians entering my room. The profound, resonant thump of the drum reverberates in my chest, the victorious sound of trumpets cuts through the air, and a vocalist's voice ascends above everything else. "Wishing you a joyful birthday!" The noise is overwhelming, yet I hardly register it. Due to the emptiness of my mind. Totally and absolutely empty. I rise, the gentle sheets gathering around me, my breath catching as my eyes scan the room. And that's when I notice it. The sheer opulence-the stunning view-renders
KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON MINE?
The impact of his words remains in the atmosphere long after he has departed. My lady. Who is talking? Or am I just imagining this? Could this be Raymond, my dear, how? I don't understand. The manner in which he expresses it... assured, definite, unquestioned. As if it's a truth, as if it has forever been a truth, as if it will eternally be a truth. I grasp the window sill, my hold so firm that my knuckles hurt. My heart is pounding within my chest, and regardless of how many breaths I draw, I can't calm it. I feel a warmth throughout my body, as if it's turning against me, responding to something I ought to resist. Since I ought to decline it. I ought to have yelled at him more, should have tossed something at him, should have clarified that I am not his. However, I didn't. For the reason that the reality is... I'm uncertain about what I am now. A Battle Within Myself I walk around my room with my arms crossed, feeling frustration building up within me. This is insane. I
KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON GUILT
I'm not sure how much time has passed while I've been curled up on my bed, yet my body feels numb. Tears stream down my face, warm and never-ending, saturating the material of my pillow. My chest heaves irregularly as sobs shake me, my mind swirling with thoughts I wish to avoid. I accomplished this. I am responsible for this. Raymond left Sasha because of my actions. I close my eyes tightly, yet the visions persist. The treachery in Sasha's tone. The utter anguish in her eyes when she understood that Raymond opted to depart instead of staying with her. And what is the reason? Due to my actions. An inmate. An unknown person. I grip the pillow more firmly, folding inward, attempting to vanish. Sasha could be immature. She could be theatrical. However, ultimately, she had love for him. She battled for him. And he turned and left her. For my part. A new surge of tears fills my eyes, and I release a suppressed sob, clutching my chest as if I can literally keep myself intact.
KIDNAPPED BY THE SILVER MAFIA DON MOTHER'S INVOLVEMENT
Morning arrives too quickly, the type of morning that feels like it's jolting me awake instead of gently bringing me into awareness. My body aches from restless movements, and my mind is chaotic, still entangled with the dream that won't disappear. I sit up, massaging my temples, attempting to dispel the sensation. It was merely a dream. Simply a foolish, absurd dream. Yet it seemed genuine. Very genuine. I let out a deep sigh, shrugging my shoulders as I compel myself to get out of bed. I must clear my mind. Perhaps a stroll around the property-well away from Raymond-will aid me in recalling who I am, where I am, and why I should never, ever develop feelings for a man like him. But the cosmos? It has alternative intentions. As soon as I exit my room, stretching my rigid limbs, I hear the unmistakable noise of elevated voices. One of those belongs to Sasha. I become immobilized. Her sharp, theatrical voice is unmistakable, tinged with excessive grief and feigned treachery. Y
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