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The night the lights went out
Last Updated:
2025-09-11 06:48:04
Latest chapter
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Who is Marco?
SerenaThe fourth knock rattled the warped door.“Serena.”Every nerve in my body stilled. That voice didn’t belong here. It wasn’t Umbra, wasn’t one of his faceless soldiers. No, this voice cut differently—low, familiar, threaded with a history I didn’t share but could feel in the tension it ripped from the boys.Nico’s face went pale, the blood drained from him so fast I thought he’d pass out. Matteo froze like a wolf sighting prey. Even Luca, who always masked nerves with a smile, dropped his grin. His eyes sharpened, hard as glass.The silence after the name felt heavier than the knock itself.“Who is it?” I asked, my voice too soft, too fragile in the stale air.The voice outside answered without hesitation. “It’s Marco.”I didn’t know the name, but the way the boys reacted told me enough.Nico’s wounded body straightened, his hand closing tighter around his gun until his knuckles whitened. Matteo’s jaw worked like he was chewing glass. Luca swore under his breath, something bitt
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Then there were four
Serena:The safehouse door clicked shut behind us, the fog outside smothered by walls that smelled of dust, mildew, and faint smoke. My legs were trembling—not just from running, not just from Nico’s weight in my arms—but from everything. The fight, Umbra’s mocking eyes, the blood on my hands. Nico sank against the far wall, wincing as he lowered himself onto the warped floorboards. I knelt beside him instinctively, pulling at his shirt to check the cut along his ribs again. My fingers were sticky with his blood, but I didn’t care. The sting of it, the warmth, made my heart pound faster. “Let me do it,” I said softly, pressing the whiskey-soaked rag to his wound. He hissed, but his hand found mine, gripping tightly. “You’re… relentless,” he murmured, his voice rough, breath uneven. “I like it.” The heat behind his words made me shiver, and I realized my mouth was dry, my skin suddenly aware of every inch of him against me. His injured body leaned into mine, and I could feel him tr
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? The night the lights went out
The night swallowed us whole as we stumbled from the warehouse.The mist off the docks wrapped itself around us, heavy with the tang of salt and iron. Umbra’s blood was still on my hands—slick on my skin, sticky beneath my nails. My ears rang with gunfire that wasn’t there anymore, ghosts of bullets that had missed me by inches.Nico leaned against me, his weight dragging but steady. His breath was harsh, uneven, his shirt torn and soaked red where someone’s blade had kissed too deep. Every step was a battle. Every heartbeat reminded me he was alive.Alive.Matteo emerged from the shadows ahead, one hand pressed hard to his side where blood seeped through his coat. His rifle was slung across his back, but his eyes were sharp, sweeping the alleys, the rooftops, the river’s edge.“They’ll regroup,” he said, voice rough. “Umbra’s men don’t scatter for long.”I tightened my grip on Nico’s arm, forcing us both to keep moving. “Then we don’t give them the chance.”Matteo’s gaze flicked to m
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? A shadow in the warehouse
The city bled night into the streets as we left the safehouse.The boy walked ahead, a shadow with Umbra’s stink clinging to him. I followed, pistol hidden beneath my coat, every step echoing with the choice I’d already made. Matteo hadn’t spoken since I’d told him I was going. Luca had tried, voice frayed with fury and pain, but I’d left him behind because I couldn’t bear to see the betrayal in his eyes.Now it was just me, the boy, and the weight of my father’s pistol burning cold in my palm.The docks rose out of the mist like broken teeth. Rusted cranes loomed overhead, chains clinking faintly in the breeze. The water lapped black and slow against the wood, carrying the reek of oil and salt and something sourer—blood, maybe. Umbra’s men owned this part of the city. Every shadow could’ve been a gun, every ripple a body waiting to be pulled from the depths.“You’re late,” the boy said suddenly. His voice still too calm, too clean for this place.“I didn’t realize punctuality mattere
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Shadows on the dock
The night pressed in on the safehouse like a secret we weren’t meant to keep. The walls sweated damp, the air stale with dust, liquor, and the faint tang of gun oil. It wasn’t a sanctuary, not really. At best, it was a pause between storms. At worst, a coffin waiting to be nailed shut.I sat at the table, my father’s old pistol heavy in my palm. Its weight felt unnatural, though I’d carried guns before. Maybe because it wasn’t just steel—it was history. His history. Every scratch in the grip was another ghost.Luca’s breathing was uneven from the chair beside me. He tried to keep it steady, but I’d spent too long around men like him not to hear the strain. Pride kept him upright, but blood didn’t care about pride. It seeped dark through the bandages we’d wrapped around his ribs, a slow bloom that made my stomach knot.“You keep looking at that gun,” he said, voice rough from pain. “Like it’ll tell you what to do.”“It’s not talking back,” I muttered, eyes fixed on the barrel.He huffe
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Old quarter chaos
The old quarter had always smelled like rot and gasoline. It wasn’t nostalgia—it was decay. The kind that clung to brick and bone long after the blood dried. My father had ruled these streets once, but now they bowed to no one. The faces watching from cracked windows weren’t neighbors, they were currency—ready to sell whatever they saw to the highest bidder.We kept moving, fast but quiet. Luca leaned heavier against me with every step, and I could feel how close his body was to giving out. He wouldn’t admit it, not to me, not to Nico, not to himself. Pride was a knife he refused to drop, even if it cut deeper than Umbra’s men ever could.Nico didn’t slow. His shoulders were tight, his hand always hovering near the blade at his belt. He knew the quarter better than either of us, but even he looked wound too tight, like a spring waiting to snap.“Eyes open,” he muttered, scanning doorways as we turned onto a narrow street. “Umbra’s money stretches far. Don’t trust the quiet.”The safeh
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