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Chapter Ninety-Two: The Betrayal’s Shadow
Last Updated:
2025-06-20 22:15:30
Jhumie_writesJulio’s rage in this chapter is not just about strategy. It’s personal. He feels like the last to know, not because he’s incompetent, but because he was excluded. After all he’s done, after everything he’s sacrificed, to be kept in the dark stings like a blade in the back. A storm is brewing, not from the enemy outside the estate… but from the brotherhood unraveling inside it.
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The sun had barely climbed over the hills when Lucien found him.Julio sat on the crumbling stone bench just beyond the olive grove, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. Morning light painted the world gold, but there was no warmth in it, just the kind of silence that followed grief and betrayal.Lucien didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.Julio didn’t look up as Lucien approached, but he shifted slightly, just enough to make space beside him. It was all the invitation Lucien needed.He sat down, their shoulders nearly brushing, the tension still heavy between them.For a long while, neither spoke.The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant clang of hammers from the estate, where the wounded walls were being rebuilt, like everything else.Julio took a long drag of his cigarette, then held it out toward Lucien, offering it without a word.Lucien stared at the smoke curling upward before shaking his head. “Emilia hates the smell.”Julio snorted
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter Ninety-Two: The Betrayal’s Shadow
Julio slammed the door behind him, the sound like a gunshot echoing down the corridor.He didn’t care.Didn’t care that Lucien shouted after him.Didn’t care that Emilia’s eyes followed him, pleading.Didn’t care that the guards flinched as he passed, stepping aside with wide, nervous eyes.He stormed through the estate like a storm that had outlived its purpose, too angry to speak, too betrayed to breathe.He wasn’t anyone.Not to Lucien.Not anymore.His hands trembled as he reached the garden path, gravel crunching beneath his boots. He couldn’t stay inside that house, their house, one second longer. The walls felt like they were watching him, judging him for being the last to know.Lucien had always been more than a boss. He was blood in everything but biology. They’d fought beside each other, killed beside each other, buried men side by side without blinking.And still…Lucien hadn’t told him.He trusted her. The girl he once considered a liability. A pet project. A complication.
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
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