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Chapter Eighty-Two: The Siege
Last Updated:
2025-06-07 21:59:07
Jhumie_writesThis is no longer just a game of secrets, it’s full blown war. Three mafia families joined forces to end Lucien, but they didn’t count on the man who built his empire in blood and fire. And they sure as hell didn’t count on the woman who’s becoming his anchor. Emilia’s in danger. Lucien’s snapping. And someone inside the house let them in. Who’s the mole? One thing’s for sure, Lucien Moretti won’t stop until every last traitor bleeds. —xx, JW
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Five: Streets in Flames
The streets were unrecognizable.Buildings burned, the acrid smoke curling into the sky like black fingers. Screams tore through the night, echoing off walls that had once held ordinary lives. Lucien moved through it all, calm, controlled, and terrifyingly deliberate.Every man, every house, every whisper of rebellion against him was met with swift, brutal retribution. Blood flowed freely. He didn’t just punish, he erased. Names, faces, families, futures, gone.“Where’s the next one?” he barked over the roar of chaos.His men scrambled, terror in their eyes, but they obeyed instantly. Fear had sharpened their reflexes, but it was nothing compared to the predator moving among them. Lucien’s boots struck the pavement hard, echoing in time with his pulse.One man tried to run, thinking his survival might be an option. Lucien saw him first.A single step. A single gesture. The man stopped. Frozen. His knees buckled. Lucien’s presence was enough to make him collapse into a heap of his own
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Four: Alone in the Dark
The first thing Emilia noticed was the silence.Complete, suffocating silence.Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, but it was no use, there were no windows, no cracks for light. Only shadows that stretched endlessly, swallowing the walls. The room smelled faintly of damp concrete and something faintly metallic.She tried to stand, but her legs were stiff, weak from being bound too long. Her hands ached from the restraints, they weren’t tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough to remind her every second that she was powerless.Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.Food. Water. Both were slid under the door, just enough to survive, just enough to remind her that someone, somewhere, wanted her alive.She swallowed. Dryly. Slowly.A day passed like this. The air shifted subtly, but not enough to count time by. There were no clocks, no voices, no warning. Only the cold, the dark, and the slow, steady thrum of her own heartbeat.Anger coiled in her chest. She had b
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three: Kira’s Offers
Lucien’s voice cuts through the war room like a blade.“Shut down the ports. Every one of them. I want eyes on every shipment that moved in the last forty eight hours,” he snaps, fingers braced against the table. “If someone paid for her, money moved. Find it.”His men scramble, voices overlapping, screens lighting up with maps, manifests, intercepted calls. The room hums with urgency, controlled chaos.Lucien doesn’t look up when the door opens.He already knows who it is.Kira steps inside quietly, one hand resting instinctively on her stomach. She pauses just inside the doorway, watching him for a moment, the hard line of his shoulders, the fury barely leashed beneath command.“Lucien,” she says.He lifts a hand without turning. “Not now.”“I won’t take long.”That makes him look.Their eyes meet across the room.The men feel the shift instantly. Lucien gestures sharply. “Give us the room.”No one questions it. Chairs scrape, boots move, doors close. Within seconds, it’s just the t
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Two: The Wrong Man
Lucien watches Emilia’s father. The man is chained to a metal chair in a concrete room that smells of rust, damp, and old fear. His wrists are bound tight, his ankles bolted to the floor. He looks thinner than Lucien remembers. Older. But his eyes, sharp, mocking, defiant, are exactly the same.Lucien steps forward slowly.The sound of his shoes against the floor echoes like a countdown.Emilia’s father lifts his head and squints, then smiles.“Well,” he says hoarsely. “If it isn’t the devil himself. Took you long enough.”Lucien stops directly in front of him.“Where is she?” he asks calmly.The calm is the most dangerous part.Emilia’s father chuckles, then coughs. “Straight to business. No ‘hello,’ no more threats yet? You’re slipping.”Lucien doesn’t react.“I’ll ask once more,” he says. “Where is Emilia?”The man tilts his head, studying him like this is some twisted game. “You really think I’d know?” he asks. “If I had that kind of access, do you think I’d be rotting here?”Luci
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-One: When The Devil Comes Looking
Lucien did not raise his voice.That was how they knew it was bad.The estate had transformed into a war room within minutes, screens lit, phones ringing, men moving at a pace that bordered on panic. Lucien stood at the center of it all, still as stone, eyes sharp and burning, his mind already three steps ahead of everyone else in the room.“Shut down the ports,” he said calmly.“Freeze all air routes within a hundred mile radius.”“Every house that breathed Santiago’s name in the last six months, I want their doors kicked in.”“Yes, boss.”“Yes, boss.”“Yes, boss.”Fear moved faster than loyalty ever could.Lucien turned toward the wall of monitors. Footage replayed again and again, two men, clean, professional, efficient. This wasn’t a random grab. This wasn’t reckless.This was planned.“She was taken to send a message,” he said quietly.One of his lieutenants swallowed. “To who?”Lucien’s jaw tightened.“To me.”His hand clenched at his side, knuckles whitening. Emilia had been al
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty: The Room Without Her
Lucien stepped fully into the bedroom.The lights were off. The curtains were half drawn, letting the faint glow of the estate lamps bleed through the glass. The room smelled faintly of her, soft, warm, familiar, but it felt wrong. Not empty. Not abandoned.Disturbed.Something in his chest tightened the moment he crossed the threshold, a subtle constriction he ignored at first. He had walked into rooms filled with blood and death without hesitation, but this silence felt sharper. More personal.His eyes moved first, scanning the space the way they always did when he entered a room, out of habit, out of instinct, out of survival. He catalogued everything in seconds.The bed was untouched.No indentation on the mattress. No crease in the sheets. No sign she had been there recently.His jaw tightened.A flicker of irritation crossed his face, quickly smothered. Emilia was unpredictable when she was upset. She could be stubborn. Withdrawn. Cold when she wanted to be.“She must be in the
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