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Chapter Nineteen: Blood at the gate
Terakhir Diperbarui:
2025-05-07 06:47:46
Jhumie_writesThings just got personal. Lucien has always been a man of control, cold, calculated, ruthless. But the moment a photo of Emilia ends up in the hands of his enemies, everything changes. This chapter marks the shift from defense to war, and from denial to something far more dangerous: emotional attachment. Thank you for reading and riding this storm with me. If you felt your heart racing, good, because the real fire is only just beginning. Don’t forget to comment, vote, and share your thoughts below. I’d love to know what you think Lucien will walk into next… and whether you think he’ll survive it.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Six: Whispers in the Kitchen
The house slept, but Emilia did not.Lucien’s arm was draped heavy across her waist, his breath steady in sleep, yet she lay with her eyes wide open, counting the seconds. Her pulse was a drumbeat in her chest, each thud reminding her of the napkin folded beneath her pillow.Tonight. Kitchen.Rosa’s handwriting, sharp and deliberate, had carried no explanation, only that single instruction.She stared at the ceiling until the clock on the wall chimed past midnight. Slowly, carefully, she lifted Lucien’s arm and slid out of bed, her bare feet ghosting across the marble floor. The mansion was quiet, but not silent, the walls had their own pulse here. Guards shifted outside. Somewhere in the distance, a door shut.Emilia wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and moved through the halls. Her steps echoed faintly, swallowed by the cavernous darkness of the house. Every shadow seemed to lean closer, listening.When she reached the kitchen, the air was warmer. The scent of rosemary,
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter one Hundred and Forty-Five: The Price Of secrets
The sky was paling when Emilia slipped back through the garden gate. Dew clung to the grass, the cool dampness seeping through her slippers as she hurried across the lawn. Rosa’s hand was firm at her elbow, guiding her through the shadows with a precision that betrayed years of knowing this house better than her own soul.“Quiet now,” Rosa whispered, her breath fogging in the dawn chill. “Los guardias will make their rounds soon.” Emilia nodded, her chest tight. Every second out here felt stolen, every breath a betrayal. She had not slept. Her mind replayed Dario’s face, his smooth voice, the way he had spoken of Lucien, of the Vulture, of choices she wasn’t ready to make. Her pulse thrummed with the weight of it all.Rosa pulled her into the side corridor that led toward the servants’ wing. There were fewer patrols here; the guards focused on the gates and main entrances. They moved swiftly, slipping past a yawning maid, ducking into the laundry passage, and finally stopping outside
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four: The Queen and the watcher
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of sconces against the stone walls. Emilia’s pulse quickened as the heavy doors shut behind her, sealing her in. She had been dragged through unfamiliar corridors, past faceless men whose eyes glinted like predators in the half light, until finally, she was deposited here.To meet Dario vescari. He wore power like a second skin; even if his looks give weak. it radiated from the slope of his shoulders, from the silence that wrapped the room as though it dared not defy him.He was not old, not the shadowed monster she had imagined lurking behind the name Vulture. His face was sharp, his eyes dark, thoughtful, like someone who measured every detail and missed nothing. His mouth curved in a half smile, as though he had been expecting her impatience.“Are you the Vulture?” she demanded, her voice low but steady, the words spilling out before her courage could falter. She had come this far; there was no point in circling the question.The man’s s
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three: The Stranger’s Estate
The drive was a blur of shadows and jolts. Emilia had tried to count the turns, tried to mark the rhythm of the city against the car’s speed, but with her head forced down and a black hood covering her vision, she could only cling to fragments: the rough smell of leather, the hum of tires, the occasional barked orders in clipped Italian.Every second stretched into dread.Her wrists were bound lightly, not tight enough to cut circulation but firm enough to remind her of her helplessness. That unsettled her more than rough treatment would have. Whoever had taken her wanted her unharmed. Wanted her whole.Wanted her alive.The thought carved deeper into her chest with each passing minute.At last, the car slowed. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and then the engine cut off. Hands grabbed her roughly, pulling her out. The night air hit her like a slap, cool, scented faintly with salt, as though the sea wasn’t far away.“Walk,” a man’s voice ordered.She stumbled forward, guided by stro
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two: Into the Dark
The night air at Pier 17 was colder than Emilia expected, the salt heavy wind biting through her coat as if it knew she had no business being here. The waves slapped against the wooden posts, steady and merciless, their rhythm reminding her of a heartbeat, hers, rapid and unsteady.She moved carefully, her shoes quiet against the damp planks. The place smelled of rust and seawater, fish and oil. Cargo crates lined the pier like silent sentinels, shadows stretching long and jagged under the weak glow of the scattered lamps. It felt abandoned, too quiet, too still, like a stage set and waiting.Her fingers clenched tightly around the straps of her bag, where Rosa’s money was tucked inside. Now, standing here in the dark, she wondered if she had been a fool.Every step felt like a trespass. Every shadow looked alive.She kept glancing behind her, the echo of her own footsteps making her jump. The guards at the mansion had been difficult enough to slip past. Rosa’s diversion, the money sl
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One: The Road to Pier 17
The night air clung to Emilia’s skin like a second shadow. The iron gates of Lucien’s mansion closed behind her with a sound that felt final, like the last line of a vow she hadn’t meant to make. Rosa’s keys were cold in her pocket, and the bundle of bills pressed against her ribs, heavier than gold.For a moment she stood frozen, her heart pounding in her throat. She had never stepped outside these walls without Lucien by her side, without guards trailing at her back. Freedom was not sweet, it was terrifying.The street stretched wide and empty beneath the pale light of the moon. Trees shivered with a midnight breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Emilia pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, lowered her head, and began to walk.Every crunch of gravel beneath her shoes sounded like an alarm bell. Every flicker of movement in the shadows made her stomach knot. She kept expecting Lucien’s voice to cut through the silence, to hear the sharp clap of his shoes on the
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