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Chapter 95: Immunity
Fecha de publicación:
2026-10-19 20:38:05
Último capítulo
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 99: Just a Currency
“Six years. I spent six years chasing shadows across Europe, and you were hiding under the floorboards of the man you murdered.”Maximilian didn’t raise his voice, but the sheer, suffocating weight behind his words made the cold air in the subterranean transport bay feel thick as lead. His matte-black sidearm remained trained squarely on the center of Victor Hale’s chest, his broad knuckles white against the grip, his posture a coiled spring waiting to release lethal violence.Through the clear monitor screen on the dashboard, I stared into the face of the monster who had taken my father’s breath.My knuckles turned stark white as I gripped the edge of the leather dash, my nails digging through the stitching. A bitter, burning nausea surged up my throat, but I forced my eyes to stay wide, soaking in every detail of the long silver scar running across his eyebrow.“It wasn’t personal, Blackridge,” Victor said, his tone smooth, almost conversational, as he took a slow, deliberate step f
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 98: Long Lost Son
“Look at the floorboards under your boots, Blackridge. That dark stain in the stone isn’t water.”Richard’s voice dripped through the ancient intercom like battery acid, every syllable crackling with a cold, hysterical malice.Inside the subterranean war room, my fingers dug into the edge of the leather dash until my knuckles turned stark white. Through the high-definition feed on the monitor, I watched the camera on Maximilian’s shoulder tilt downward. The beam of his tactical flashlight swept across the damp cellar floor, illuminating a wide, dark discoloration soaked deep into the porous stone.My breath hitched, a lump of sharp, suffocating ice forming in my throat.“Emery, close your eyes,” Maximilian’s voice rasped through the comms line. He didn’t turn toward the speaker. His weapon remained raised, sweeping the dark shadows of the vaulted cellar, his posture an immovable wall of Kevlar and steel. “Don’t look at the feed.”“I’m not closing my eyes,” I choked out into the comms
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 97: His Stare
“If you die tonight, Maximilian, I’m burning that clearing vault to the ground myself.”The words slipped out as a quiet, jagged whisper, cutting through the low rumble of the twin-turbo V8 engine.Maximilian didn’t break his stare from the rain-slicked mountain road winding into the valley, but his broad, calloused fingers tightened over mine. His grip was an iron anchor—hot, steady, and possessing an unyielding strength that kept the cold terror from completely paralyzing my chest. The heavy, armored SUV bounded over a deep rut, its darkened bulletproof glass dampening the sound of the howling wind outside.“I have no intention of dying, sweet girl,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register that vibrated straight through my palm. “Not when I still have a nursery to build.”Beside the road, thick, ancient pine trees pressed close, their dense branches casting long, skeletal shadows across our hood under the pale moonlight. We were miles deep into the forgotten wes
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 96: The Valley House
“He’s going back to the beginning.”Maximilian’s voice didn’t carry the roar of command or the icy bite of war. It fell into the quiet hum of the underground war room like a heavy, cold stone dropping into a dark well.I paused, the roll of medical tape still resting between my fingers. The antiseptic smell on my hands mixed with the sharp scent of rain clinging to his dark shirt. I looked into his eyes, tracing the fresh bandage secured along his jawline.“The beginning?” I whispered, my heart taking a slow, heavy thud against my ribs. “What do you mean, Maximilian?”“The old Donovan estate in the western valley,” he answered, his broad hands remaining firmly anchored over my hips, holding me close against his chest. “The property your father abandoned twenty years ago, right after your mother died.”A cold shudder ran straight down my spine, making the hair on my arms stand on end. “The valley house? Why would he go there? That place has been abandoned for two decades. The roof is c
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 95: Immunity
“If he burns the judicial archives, every murder warrant, every wiretap transcript, and every illegal contract from the last twenty years turns to ash in less than five minutes!”My voice tore through the quiet tension of the subterranean war room, sharp enough to cut through the hum of the cooling fans.On the central wall monitor, the thermal rendering of the judicial district locker glowed a horrifying, incandescent white as thermite charges consumed the cold-storage filing cabinets. Through the open comms line, I could hear the roar of heavy engines as Maximilian’s convoy executed a violent, screeching U-turn in the flooded streets three miles away, spinning back toward the secondary sector.“Rachel, pull up the mirror-drive logs!” I commanded, slamming my palms flat against the glass map table, ignoring the sharp ache in my lower back. “Richard destroyed the physical paper archives, but the digital index in this room was mirrored before his strike team breached the rear doors!”
Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies Chapter 94: Connecting
“How many men did he send?”Maximilian didn’t look back as he strapped his heavy tactical rig over his dark shirt, his calloused fingers working the heavy buckles with practiced, lethal precision.The warm, intimate sanctuary of our bedroom had dissolved in a single heartbeat, replaced by the metallic tang of weapon oil, rain, and imminent carnage.“At least thirty, Boss,” Lucas reported from the doorway, his boots leaving wet, muddy tracks across the plush carpet as he tapped his encrypted tablet. “Vanguard mercs, heavy weapons, two armored breachers. They rammed the main gates of the central vault six minutes ago. They aren’t trying to loot the vault, they are leveling the whole block with thermite charges.”“He’s desperate,” I said, stepping up beside the mahogany desk, my hands resting flat over the faint, subtle swell of my stomach. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my voice remained steady, stripped of all hesitation. “Richard knows the ledgers are in our hands. He knows hi
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