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Chapter Ninety: Blood on the Walls
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2025-06-18 16:09:05
Jhumie_writesEmilia’s transformation continues, not just as Lucien’s partner, but as a figure of power within the estate. This chapter marks a pivotal moment in her evolution: from survivor to symbol. The way the staff now look at her, the blood she can’t wash off, and her quiet decision to let Lucien rest while she carries the weight, these are signs that she’s stepping into a role. Julio’s return brings a new storm. The discovery of a possible mole inside the estate threatens everything they just fought to protect. The next chapter will peel back layers of betrayal, and Emilia, once again, will find herself caught in the fire. Stay with me, what’s coming will change everything.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Ninety-One: Blood Between Brothers
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow bleeding through the sheer curtains. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and iron. Lucien sat back in the armchair near the balcony, his muscles finally relaxing, Emilia’s scent still lingering on his skin.She had let him sleep. He didn’t deserve her patience.Now, quiet reigned,,until it didn’t.The door burst open with a crack loud enough to jolt Lucien to his feet. Julio stormed in, face dark, body taut with fury.Emilia was right behind him, barefoot, dressed in his shirt, her hair wild.“Julio…” she started.“Where is he?” Julio barked, eyes scanning the room before landing on Lucien. “We need to talk.”Lucien moved closer, chest already tight. “Talk then.”Julio’s jaw clenched. “Alone.”Lucien shot a look at Emilia. She stood still, wary but composed. “She stays.”“Lucien..."“I trust her.”Julio’s nostrils flared, but he nodded stiffly. “Fine.”He stalked further in, stopping in the center of the room like he owned the damn floor.
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Ninety: Blood on the Walls
The estate was eerily quiet in the morning light. Soft golden beams cut through cracked windows and dust, highlighting the chaos that had ravaged the night before. Ash still clung to the walls. Blood darkened the crevices between marble tiles. And yet, for the first time in days, silence reigned.Lucien was still asleep.Emilia stood at the edge of the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. His face, usually so sharp, so commanding, was softened in sleep. There was a bruise blooming along his jaw. Dried blood streaked his arms. But in rest, he looked peaceful. Human.He needed the sleep. She wouldn’t wake him.So she slipped away silently, careful not to rouse him, and pulled his discarded shirt over her bare skin. It dwarfed her, hanging past her knees, but it smelled like him, smoke and citrus and war.Her bare feet made no sound as she stepped into the ruined hall. Most of the estate was still dark, quiet, and bleeding. Broken vases. Shattered glass. Burned wallpaper.
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
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