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Chapter One Hundred and Four: Weak Link
Last Updated:
2025-07-18 18:48:45
Jhumie_writesThis chapter gutted me to write, because love doesn’t always feel like roses and warmth. Sometimes it feels like standing in the middle of a battlefield and wondering if the person you’d die for will survive the war you’ve both been dragged into. 🥀 Lucien is unraveling. Emilia is standing her ground. And now, the house that once held whispers of healing is nothing but steel, suspicion, and silence. Is love still enough when power is the price? Thank you for reading The Weak Link. Leave a comment if this chapter made your heart ache or your fists clench, I read every single one. JW
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Five: What To Die For
The house was too quiet now. The kind of silence that came after a fight that hadn’t really ended.Lucien didn’t look back when he walked out of the conservatory.He couldn’t.If he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d go back in to finish the argument, or fall to his knees in front of her.Her words rang louder than the echoes of Julio’s accusations:“Because I love you, you bastard!”She had said it like a curse. Like an anchor.She had said it like a confession and a threat all in one. Raw. Unfiltered. It hadn’t been soft. It hadn’t been sweet. It had been a scream in a burning room.Lucien’s jaw flexed as he moved through the dim corridor, boots silent against polished marble. The storm outside was growing louder, wind clawing at the shutters, thunder rolling low like the growl of a warning.His steps led him toward the armory wing, where Julio had set up a new control hub, tucked into the old wine cellar. Reinforced concrete. One way in, one way out. No windows.Perfect for paranoia.Luci
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Four: Weak Link
The estate was no longer quiet.It growled now, low and mean. Boots thundered across marble. New men filled the halls like wolves scenting blood. Every corner of the house bristled with eyes, weapons, suspicion.Lucien stood by the library window, jaw clenched as he watched another black SUV pull through the gates. Armored. Tinted windows. Reinforcements. Power players. People who didn’t need to knock.The council hadn’t sent word, they didn’t need to. They never did when the stakes were this high.Behind him, the room buzzed with voices and strategy, Julio murmuring orders to their lieutenants while two techs unpacked surveillance gear like it was holy scripture.“Three more arrived this morning,” Julio said without looking up. “Two from Marseille, one from Naples. All requested by the Upper Circle.”Lucien nodded stiffly.“House is on lockdown,” Julio continued. “No one leaves. No one enters. Not without biometric clearance and escort.”Lucien turned away from the window, face hard.
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Three: The House That Bleeds
The house was too quiet.Not the comforting quiet of safety, but the brittle silence of a place holding its breath. Shadows seemed longer. Footsteps felt louder. And every corner Emilia turned, she swore she could feel eyes watching, not just from cameras or guards, but from within the walls themselves. The estate wasn’t home anymore.It was bleeding.And the worst part? She wasn’t sure if it was Lucien’s blood staining it… or hers.She sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the vent above. The one Lucien had pulled the camera from. A small, jagged hole remained where the dummy cover had been pried off. It gaped like a wound, raw and violating.Every touch they’d shared in this room. Every whispered word, every moan, every time she’d reached for him in the dark,?they’d been watched. Recorded. Maybe shared.She clenched her fists and stood.She couldn’t sit and feel violated anymore. She wouldn’t.Lucien had left earlier, mumbling something about command checks and signal reports. He
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred And Two: A Knife at Our Backs
The door clicked shut behind him with finality. Locked. Not to trap her, God, never to trap her, but to seal them into a moment that could no longer be avoided.Emilia stood near the center of the room like a live wire, arms crossed, eyes burning with fury and fear. The chandelier light cast over her skin like porcelain, cracked and radiant.“You’re going to tell me everything,” she said, her voice steady, even as the pulse visibly fluttered at her throat. “No more half truths. No more locked doors. You promised me no more secrets.”Lucien dragged a hand over his jaw, stubble scratching against his palm. He hadn’t slept more than an hour in days. Not really. Not since Raul looked him in the eye and said, “He knew I pledged myself to you. He knew everything that goes on in your house.”Emilia waited. She always waited… until she didn’t.“I’m not protecting you to control you,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”Her expression didn’t change. “Then stop treating me like glas
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter one hundred and one: Smoke Behind the Mirror
The silence in the Wolfe estate had changed.It wasn’t the peaceful quiet Emilia had grown used to, the kind laced with soft jazz from the parlor or the hum of distant voices in the kitchen. No, this silence had a shape to it. Heavy. Watchful. Like something coiled in the walls, waiting.She noticed it first when she entered the hallway that morning and caught two housekeepers murmuring near the staircase. They didn’t even try to hide it, just stopped mid-sentence and looked past her like she was a ghost. Or a grenade.“Do you need something?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.They both shook their heads and walked away too quickly.The day went on like that. Glances. Awkward pauses. Locked doors that used to be open. Even lulu, who had never liked her but used to at least pretend, refused to meet her eyes when she brought Emilia’s lunch to the sunroom.Only Mateo greeted her with warmth.He passed her in the hallway with a nod and a quiet, “Señora,” offering a small, reassu
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred: The Vulture’s Invitation
The desert air was a slow suffocation, too still, too quiet. Raul Navarro stood beside the idling SUV, eyes scanning the expanse of dust and shadow. The rendezvous point was an abandoned fuel station, fifty miles south of the last paved road, swallowed by sand and time. The kind of place people didn’t stumble upon. Which meant someone chose it for exactly that reason.The sun had long since bled out behind the horizon, leaving rusted signage and cracked asphalt in monochrome shadow. His men moved in a loose perimeter, alert but calm, weapons drawn but low. Not posturing. Just ready.This wasn’t a battlefield yet.Raul lit a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. The brief flare carved sharp lines into his face, tired lines. He looked every bit the cartel don in his tailored charcoal suit, but the dust clinging to his cuffs and boots betrayed the truth. No one came out here clean.He hated being summoned.Worse, he hated not knowing who had done the summoning. The Vulture. A name wrappe
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