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Chapter Eighty-Three: The Queen’s Fire
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2025-06-08 22:22:17
Jhumie_writesEmilia stepped out of the shadows, and into her power. This is what it means to stand beside a king. Not behind him. Not as his weakness. But as his sword. As his fire. As his equal. War has come to the estate, and with it, a reckoning. But Emilia has made one thing clear: She will not hide. She will not run. She is Lucien Moretti’s queen, and her enemies will learn what that means. Hold your breath, because the real storm is just beginning. —xx, JW
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Nine: Whispered Warnings
The city outside the Moretti estate breathed like it hadn’t just bled.Julio needed out. Out of the smoke. Out of the blood. Out of the pressure building in his skull that no amount of gunfire could quiet.So he slipped out under the cover of night. No guards. No one. Just him and the growl of his black Ducati as it roared down the coastal highway.The brothel was tucked behind a shuttered florist shop, the front lit with a single flickering bulb and a red curtain in the window. No sign. It didn’t need one.Julio didn’t knock.She opened the door before his hand hit the wood.Dark hair. Freckles. Long legs and a wicked mouth. Her name was Kira, though he wasn’t sure if it was real. She never asked why he came, and he never asked who came before him.“Rough night?” she asked, eyeing the cut over his brow and the smear of blood on his jaw.Julio walked in without a word, grabbed her by the waist, and slammed the door shut with his boot.Their mouths collided before they hit the bed.Roug
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Eight: Ash and Warmth
The weight of her was almost nothing.Lucien held Emilia against his chest, her body limp from exhaustion, her breath shallow and slowing. Her silk robe clung to her in streaks of crimson and soot, the blood of others dried into the fabric like a second skin. She hadn’t washed. She hadn’t asked for maids. She hadn’t spoken since the doors closed behind them.The battlefield still echoed in his head, gunfire, shouting, the sound of glass breaking and bones cracking. But the only thing real now was her. Her warmth. Her silence. The way her cheek rested over his heart, hair wild and matted against his skin.She was slipping.Not away. Just into sleep. The kind of sleep that comes after survival, not safety.Lucien looked down at her, at the blood caked along her thighs, her bare feet streaked with ash, the bruises blooming across her arms where she’d thrown herself into the chaos. She was filthy. Glorious. Silent.But not yet.He pressed his lips to her temple. “You’re not sleeping like t
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Seven: His Queen In the Ashes
The marble floors of the Moretti estate were littered with bullet casings, blood, and the scent of gunpowder. Smoke still hung low in the halls, curling like ghosts through broken windows and shattered doorways. The storm had passed, but the wreckage remained.Lucien Moretti walked through it all like a god of war, shirt torn open, blood painting his skin, death clinging to him like cologne. His hand never left Emilia’s waist.He held her there. Firm. Unapologetic.Not hidden. Not shielded.Claimed.Emilia’s silk robe clung to her body, streaked in dark blood, none of it hers. Her feet were bare, smeared with ash and red, whispering across the cold tile. Her hair was wild, tangled by sweat and smoke, curling around her face like a crown forged in chaos.There was no shame in her eyes.Only fire.Lucien barked orders as they moved through the estate. “Get the wounded to the infirmary. I want this hall cleared by nightfall. No excuses.”Men scattered to obey, stepping aside when they pas
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Six: The Smoke Clears
The smoke hung thick in the air, curling in ghostly tendrils as it slithered down the marble halls of the Moretti estate. The once pristine floors were slick with blood, bodies scattered like discarded cards from a rigged game.Lucien stood at the heart of it all, his shirt soaked, torn, clinging to muscles tense with rage and fatigue. His hands were stained crimson, his knuckles raw, and the pistol he held was nearly fused to his grip. He barely noticed the sting. Not when death still lingered around the corners like a patient predator.Another shot rang out in the distance. Two sharp cracks. Then silence.He didn’t flinch.Instead, Lucien tilted his head, listening, not for more gunfire, but for her. For Emilia.The last time he’d seen her, he’d shoved her into Julio’s arms and ordered them both out of the crossfire. He’d fought with the fury of a man stripped bare, because that was exactly what he was. Every bullet he fired, every life he ended, was for her.And yet every second she
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Five: Fire in her Eyes
The stench of blood clung to the marble floors of the moretti estate like a second skin. Gunfire still echoed in the halls as Julio moved quickly, Emilia a few steps behind him. She wore nothing but the silk robe Lucien had draped over her earlier, tied loosely around her waist, blood spattered across its folds now. Her hair was a mess, her feet bare, but in each of her hands she held a gun, both given to her by Lucien. And her eyes…They were cold. Focused. Lucien had ordered him, no, commanded him, to get her out of the line of fire. To take her back to his private wing and make sure she was safe. But as Julio glanced behind him and caught the fire in Emilia’s eyes, he knew this wouldn’t be a simple escort mission.She was no longer the fragile girl who had trembled in the shadows when she first arrived. War had a way of forging steel out of flesh, and Emilia Romano was turning into something dangerous.He’d seen Lucien fight before. Not even during their darkest battles. But tonigh
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Eighty-Four: The Fire and the Queen
Gunfire cracked like thunder through the halls. Blood smeared the marble tiles. Bodies, some of them traitors, others unlucky bastards from enemy families, littered the corridor.Lucien ducked behind a shattered pillar, bullets whizzing past his head. He fired twice, clean and precise, dropping a man who dared charge his wing. Julio was a beast at his side, reloading faster than a machine, his eyes wild with fury and fire.Then he saw her.At first, he thought it was a hallucination. A trick of the smoke and chaos. But no, there she was. Emilia.Alive. Breathing.Wearing nothing but the silk robe she’d thrown on after they made love hours ago and holding the gun he’d given her weeks before.His heart stopped.For a second, Lucien didn’t know if he should be angry, upset, or grateful. She was supposed to be in bed, hidden, protected. Out of this madness. And yet here she stood like some kind of warrior goddess, her bare legs streaked with dust, hair wild, eyes blazing.She looked like s
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