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Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen: The Safe One
Last Updated:
2025-08-09 16:20:42
Jhumie_writesIn this chapter, we saw Emilia finally breathe. Finally talk. Finally feel something close to comfort.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen: A Different Kind Of Trap
Lucien’s mood was a storm that didn’t pass with the closing of the council doors.It followed him down the marble steps of the old building, past the long shadows stretching across the courtyard, all the way to the car.Julio was a silent shadow at his side, his jaw clenched tight, his usual easy smirk gone.Neither man spoke.They didn’t need to.The meeting’s stench still clung to Lucien, arrogance, opportunism, that particular smell of men who thought they’d sniffed out weakness.The gunpowder scent from the single shot he’d fired lingered in his memory, as vivid as the bright splash of blood across polished wood.Julio slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine’s low growl filled the air as they pulled out into the night.Lucien leaned back, watching the city blur past in the window’s reflection.Every streetlight lit his face for a heartbeat, then left him in shadow again.The rhythm matched his thoughts, flashes of faces from that table. Santiago’s stillness. Dario’s
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: The Quiet Knife
The house was quiet in the late afternoon, the kind of quiet that stretched too long and felt wrong.Emilia had been in the training room for nearly an hour, sweating through another round of target practice Matteo insisted they finish. He’d been patient, too patient, correcting her stance, steadying her elbows when she wavered. Always with that easy smile that made it hard to stay annoyed at herself for missing half her shots.But halfway through reloading, he’d excused himself, “Two minutes, principessa, then we finish,” ...and slipped out of the room.At first she didn’t think much of it. Matteo was the type to wander off for water, a phone call, a snack. But when five minutes passed, then ten, and he still hadn’t returned, irritation won over patience.She set the pistol down on the bench and wiped her palms on her leggings. “Where the hell…”The house swallowed her voice.The hallway outside the training room was dimmer, the air cooler. She followed the faint creak of floorboard
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One hundred and Seventeen: The Wolf at the Table
Lucien entered without knocking. without announcement.The doors to the old council room were built to intimidate, dark oak, twice the width of a man, but they swung open on his push, groaning across marble. The room beyond smelled of stale cigar smoke and the faint, iron tang of old blood sunk deep into wood grain.Sunlight poured through tall, dust frosted windows, slicing the space into bands of light and shadow. It illuminated the long mahogany table in the center, the polished surface gleaming like still water.Eight men sat there. Waiting. Watching.He knew every man here. Knew their debts, their grudges, their ambitions. Knew which ones were willing to slit a throat for coin, and which ones would slit it just to feel the warm rush between their fingers.Julio moved in behind Lucien and took his place at the wall just over his right shoulder, silent, solid, the way a right hand should be. He never sat. Never relaxed. His presence was a quiet reminder that Lucien didn’t walk into
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred And Sixteen: Soft Walls, Hard Distance
He’d been watching her breathe for over an hour.The morning light crept in slow, casting pale gold across the curve of her shoulder. She lay with her back to him, still, silent. Awake. He could feel it. The kind of stillness that wasn’t rest, but restraint.Lucien didn’t speak at first. He didn’t know how.So much time had passed between them in silence that now, even his words felt like they might bruise her.He tried anyway.“You’re up early.”There was a pause before she answered. “Didn’t sleep much.”A beat passed.“I noticed.”Another silence. One she didn’t try to fill.He stared at the ceiling. Then turned his gaze to her, wishing she’d turn, too. Wishing she’d just… meet him halfway.“Emilia,” he said, voice low. “I haven’t really check up on you.”She rolled onto her back, finally looking at him. Her eyes were tired, unreadable.“You haven’t.”The honesty hit harder than any accusation would have.“I’m here now,” he said quietly.She sat up, pulling the sheet to her chest, a
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: What He Doesn’t Say
He didn’t announce his return.No one expected him back until nightfall, but the meeting had ended early, and the drive home was quiet,?too quiet. His mind, usually sharp and relentless, had dulled to static somewhere between the third call from Julio and the final bullet he’d pulled from a traitor’s shoulder.He was tired. Not the kind of tired sleep could cure. The kind that lived in the bones. That came from carrying too much, for too long, and refusing to drop any of it.The front door opened with a soft groan. No one met him. No one rushed to inform the house.Good. He didn’t want fanfare.He wanted…He paused. Laughter.Faint, light, echoing through the corridor from the back of the house.Not many people laughed here. Not truly.He followed the sound like a scent, silent through the halls, past the west study, past the stillness of the dining room.The back door was cracked open.Through it, the training yard came into view.And so did she.Emilia.Hair tied up. Shirt clinging
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: The One Who Stays
The gun felt heavier in her hands than she remembered.Lucien had taught her but she wasn't that steady yet, quiet mornings in private ranges, his hands over hers, his voice low and calm as he corrected her aim. Back then, it felt intimate. Like a bond built in the fire of survival.Now, it just felt like another thing she wasn’t good at.“Relax your shoulders,” Matteo said gently. “You’re bracing like it’s going to kick you across the yard.”“It might,” she muttered.He didn’t laugh. Just stepped closer, not too close, and adjusted the angle of her arms without touching her. “Try again.”Emilia took a breath, aligned the sights, and fired.The bullet hit just shy of the target’s edge.She sighed. “This is pointless.”“It’s not,” Matteo said calmly. “That was better than your last five.”“Which were all trash.”“Which were all learning.” He walked past her, reset the target with practiced ease, and returned with a bottle of water. “No one gets good in a day.”She took the bottle witho
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