LOGINShare
She's Inside The Lion's Den
Last Updated:
2025-12-10 08:00:31CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE
SOCHI, RUSSIA – Day 3 after abduction I woke to the steady beep of a monitor and the sting of a needle in my left hand. Dextrose. Saline. Fetal heart-rate monitor strapped across my belly. The room smelled of antiseptic and cedar. Heavy velvet drapes blocked all daylight, but a single lamp painted everything in muted gold. I kept my eyes closed, breathing slow, counting heartbeats. The door opened with a soft click. Footsteps: light, feminine, rubber-soled. A woman’s voice, low, professional. “Pressure stable. Fetal heartbeat one-fifty-five. Perfect.” She adjusted the drip. I waited until her back turned. Then I moved. I ripped the needle from my vein; blood sprayed across white sheets; and launched myself off the bed. Pain shot up my arm, b
Latest chapter
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent She's Inside The Lion's Den
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Day 3 after abduction I woke to the steady beep of a monitor and the sting of a needle in my left hand. Dextrose. Saline. Fetal heart-rate monitor strapped across my belly. The room smelled of antiseptic and cedar. Heavy velvet drapes blocked all daylight, but a single lamp painted everything in muted gold. I kept my eyes closed, breathing slow, counting heartbeats. The door opened with a soft click. Footsteps: light, feminine, rubber-soled. A woman’s voice, low, professional. “Pressure stable. Fetal heartbeat one-fifty-five. Perfect.” She adjusted the drip. I waited until her back turned. Then I moved. I ripped the needle from my vein; blood sprayed across white sheets; and launched myself off the bed. Pain shot up my arm, b
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent She's Abducted
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Week 24, 03:14 a.m.Four days of absolute silence.No shadows.No drones.No whispers in the streets.Even Nico’s empire of ears went deaf.The Executioner had vanished like smoke through a keyhole.We let ourselves believe, for one dangerous heartbeat, that he had retreated.We were wrong.The first canister shattered the kitchen skylight at 03:14.The second punched through the ballroom’s French doors.The third rolled down the grand staircase like a child’s toy.Colorless, odorless, merciless.I was in the bedroom, barefoot in one of Dante’s black shirts, reaching for water, when the glass exploded behind me.A soft hiss.Then the world tilted.Dante was already moving, gun in hand, roaring my name.He reached me in two strides, yanked me against his chest, hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me backward toward the stud
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Executioner, Reliving Her Past
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Weeks 21–23He no longer skulked.He walked in broad daylight, coat open, scar bared to the sun, and let every camera in Italy drink him in.Nico’s feeds became a private gallery of obsession.Monday – 09:14Via Mazzini, Verona.Outside Tessabit, where I bought the emerald silk gown for the Mosconi gala six months ago.He stood in the exact spot the paparazzi had caught me, hands loose at his sides, staring at the window display that still featured the same dress on a mannequin. He reached out, gloved fingertip tracing the glass where my reflection had once been. Security stepped forward. He turned, looked straight into Nico’s traffic-light lens, and gave that small, civilized smile. Then walked away.Tuesday – 14:07Gelateria Savoia, Verona.The corner table I claimed every Sunday before I got pregnant.He sat, ordered two cones: so
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Threat on the Unborn
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – 4:47 a.m., Week 20The war room was a cathedral of red light and cold steel.Nico stood at the center like a priest about to deliver last rites, hands dancing across three keyboards at once. Dante and I flanked him, shoulder to shoulder, both of us armed to the teeth. My Glock pressed against the small of my back; Dante’s hand never left the custom 1911 on his hip. The baby had gone eerily still, as if listening.Nico didn’t look up when he spoke.“Voronin just cashed in every favor he’ll ever have. Three dead oligarchs, one suicide in Lubyanka, and a retired GRU colonel who pissed himself on camera. We have the full file.”He hit a key.The wall lit up with a single service photograph, 1998.A boy, barely eighteen, in cadet uniform. Same scar, still pink and fresh, slicing from left eye to cheekbone. Name redacted. Birthplace redacted. Only one lin
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Executioner In Italy's Soil
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – 3:12 a.m., Week 20The estate had become a living, breathing war machine.Every motion sensor was live, every camera hot, every dog straining at its leash. The night air outside vibrated with the low thrum of Nico’s drones, their red anti-collision lights sweeping the sky like blood across black glass.Dante had carried me upstairs hours ago, refusing to let my feet touch the floor longer than strictly necessary. He was in the shower, steam billowing out of the marble bathroom, trying to scrub the Milan dust and the rage off his skin. I sat propped against a mountain of pillows, silk robe loose over the unmistakable curve of my belly, one hand absently tracing the latest stretch marks while the baby practiced somersaults.The encrypted tablet on the nightstand flared to life with Nico’s private tone: three short, one long. The sound that meant drop everything.I answ
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent A Monster's Reawakening
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALY – Late afternoon, Week 20The Maybach hadn’t even come to a full stop when Dante exploded out of it, jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled, tie long gone. The guards scattered. I stood in the archway between the foyer and the living room, one hand supporting the small of my back, the other resting on the unmistakable curve of my belly.He saw me and the distance vanished.Three strides and his hands were on my face, eyes feral, scanning for wounds that weren’t there.“Catalina.” My name cracked in his throat. “Tell me you’re all right.”“I’m all right, tesoro,” I said, calm, steady. “We’re all right.”He dropped his forehead to mine, breath ragged. “Seven days. Fucking. Days.”Behind him, the front doors were still open. Nico stepped through them like he owned the threshold; slow, deliberate, no hurry at all. Black coat sweeping the marble, hands in pockets, the lazy sm
You may also like
Mr. Ford Is Jealous
Boat of Peaches762.6K viewsOne night with Ex-Husband
Anjaani536.4K viewsPregnant and Favored: See You in the Morning, Young Master
Miss Yu914.7K viewsOn Her Daddy’s Bed!
Xee write632.7K viewsEx-Husband's Irrevocable Mistake
Crystal L.C1.4K viewsHer Return : The Billionaire's Contract Wife
Nia Kas476 viewsMr and Mrs Billionaire
Tiny Fairy198 viewsBrotherzoned
Misspetty376 views
