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Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Nine: The Reckoning
Last Updated:
2025-10-19 18:44:56
Jhumie_writesThis is the moment the book has been circling toward: grief becomes law. Julio’s death does not simply wound Lucien, it strips away whatever restraint he still had. Tonight he stops negotiating with the world and begins to burn it down.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-One: The Queen’s Gambit
Lucien slept like a ghost refusing to leave the body.The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only proof he was still with me. Every time the candlelight fluttered the shadow on the blankets, I held my breath, waiting for the silence to swallow him whole.But he kept breathing.And I kept watching.Rosa hadn’t left his side all night. She sat in a chair near the bed, head bowed, fingers wrapped around a rosary that was missing two beads. Dried blood streaked her forearms like battle ribbons. She looked exhausted, and yet when she looked up she was all steel.“He’ll live,” she murmured when she felt me watching. “You saved him.”I shook my head. “No. You did.”She looked at me the way a woman who’s buried half her life in other people’s wounds looks at a child she knows better than the child knows herself. “You both did. Each in your own way. But you…” Her voice softened. “You have that look again, ragazza. The one that means you’re about to make a decision that will either ruin y
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Eighty: Ashes of a Kingdom
The fire hadn’t stopped eating the walls.It hissed and screamed and spat, as if the house itself was dying with them.Lucien’s hand slipped from his gun first. Then his knees buckled.“Lucien..."I caught him before he hit the ground, but the weight of him nearly took me down too. His body was solid, heavy with blood and exhaustion. He’d been fighting on nothing but vengeance and adrenaline, but now both were running out.He swayed once, his breath rasping in my ear, and then he fell.“Lucien!”His eyes were half open, glassy, unfocused. Smoke curled through the hall, making the air burn in my lungs. I pressed my hands to his chest, to the place I’d seen bleeding hours ago, the wound that had reopened. Hot, slick blood oozed between my fingers.“No...no, no, stay with me,” I whispered, shaking him. “You hear me? You don’t get to fall now. Not after all this.”Around us, the night was collapsing. The grand hall was nothing but fire and wreckage; the walls that once held paintings and c
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Nine: The Reckoning
The night no longer had a name.Only sound. Fire. Blood.Lucien moved through it like a curse wearing skin.The man who had screamed over Julio’s body was gone, what rose from that floor was something older , a king stripped of mercy. His clothe was torn and soaked through, the left side glistening with another man’s blood. His eyes burned pale, almost colorless, as if grief had burned everything soft inside him and left only ruin.Every step he took was deliberate. Calculated.Every bullet, personal.The first one fell before he knew he had pulled the trigger.Then another.And another.Lucien’s hand was steady now , too steady. He didn’t flinch when the walls exploded beside him, or when a man begged for his life. His mind was a quiet storm. They took my brother. So I’ll take their world.Raul’s voice barked through the radio, rough and breaking. “Boss, we’ve cleared the west wing…”“Level it,” Lucien said. His tone was flat, almost polite. “No house, no ghost, no survivors.”“Lucie
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Eight: The King on his knees
The shot cut through the hall like a verdict.Lucien saw Julio move before he understood what it meant, the arc of him, the full body launch, the shoulder rolling forward like a man answering an old, honed duty. He saw the flash at the muzzle as if the world had sharpened into a single frame. Then the sound came, not a scream but the hollow, final exhale of a man who had given his life to something older than fear.For a moment everything else, the gunfire, the smoke, the running men, dropped away. The colors bled out to ash and red. Julio’s body folded against Lucien’s knees, graceless and immediate.“No.” The word ripped out of him like an animal.He caught Julio because there was no other motion. Hands found shoulders, fabric, bone. Blood hot and metallic soaked through sleeve and palm. Lucien dragged him close as if the proximity might argue death into staying. He pressed his hands at the wound until his fingers trembled with the impossible physics of stopping a man from bleeding
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Seven: The Queen of War
Smoke choked the air. The marble halls that once glittered with chandeliers now reeked of gunpowder, fire, and blood. The Moretti estate, their kingdom, was dying around her.Emilia pressed her back to the wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. She shouldn’t be here. Lucien had ordered her to stay hidden. But the moment she heard the guards whisper outside her door...“Boss is shot” something inside her snapped.Fear stopped being a cage. It became fuel.She gripped her gun tighter, slipping out from the shadows of the hallway. Bodies littered the floor, friends, enemies, she couldn’t tell. Blood pooled in the seams of the marble, black under the flicker of firelight. The echo of gunfire throbbed through the corridors like a heartbeat.Her hand trembled as she raised the weapon for the first time.Then, she saw one of Santiago’s men turn the corner, rifle raised.He didn’t even see her coming.The shot cracked through the smoke, sharp and final.The man dropped.For a momen
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Six: The Brother’s Oath
The halls were burning.Julio moved through the smoke like a shadow made of blood and loyalty. The estate he had sworn his life to protect was no longer marble and gold, it was a battlefield, lit by gunfire and the dying.He kicked a body aside and reloaded without flinching. Every bullet he fired carried one purpose: keep Lucien alive.“Fall back! Guard the corridor!” someone shouted.Julio didn’t look back. “No one falls back! You hold this fucking line or you die trying!”His voice cut through the noise like steel. The men around him,,what was left of them, listened. They always had. Because when Julio gave an order, it wasn’t from fear or rank. It was from love, the kind that didn’t need words.He turned a corner, gun raised. Two of Santiago’s men came running from the servant’s wing. Julio shot both before they could breathe.“Bastards,” he muttered, stepping over them.Every inch of this house meant something to him. He remembered standing in the same hallway years ago, after Luc
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