This was the moment everything changed. Lucien crossed a line tonight, not just for power, but for her. The war isn’t over, not by a long shot. And Emilia… she’s seen a side of Lucien no one comes back from unchanged. Was it love that saved her? Or the monster she’s yet to fully understand? Thank you for reading Chapter Thirty of Sold to the Mafia Lord. The next chapter will shake the very ground they stand on, because love, blood, and vengeance always come with a price. Stay sharp. Things are only getting darker.
The jet was already waiting when they arrived.Private. Black. Dangerous, just like the man who would be flying it.Emilia stayed quiet as Lucien handed their bags to Julio, who gave only a slight nod before stepping back into the shadows. No one else knew where they were going. No guards. No goodbyes. Just silence, the kind that usually came before a storm.“You good?” Lucien asked, glancing at her as he opened the cabin door.She nodded once, lying. Her stomach was tight, her pulse jumpy. Not from fear. Not even from leaving. But because he was there. Close. Tense. Bleeding confidence even through his bandages and the weight of exhaustion hanging on him.Lucien climbed the steps first, and Emilia followed, eyes on the narrow curve of his back, the flex of his muscles beneath the black shirt. He shouldn’t be moving like that, not after taking a bullet. Not after nearly bleeding out.But Lucien Moretti didn’t believe in pain. Or weakness. Or limits.Inside, the jet was sleek, dimly li
They called him dead.Buried under the weight of Lucien Moretti’s past sins. Erased from records. Forgotten like a ghost that never mattered.But ghosts don’t vanish.They linger.They wait.And he had waited long enough.The feed flickered again.Her face.Emilia Romano.It was always her now. The girl Lucien bled for. The girl Catalina tried to weaponize before her spectacular downfall. A pretty pawn in the middle of a war she never asked for, one that had yet to truly begin.He leaned forward, shadows dancing over the sharp lines of his face as the screen steadied. The image was grainy, pulled from a hacked security feed, probably a safehouse tucked in one of Lucien’s lesser-known territories. Emilia sat on the couch, arms folded over her chest, expression guarded. Still recovering. Still unaware.The fool thought the battle was over.Lucien had buried Catalina. Burned through the Alvaros. Painted the streets with blood. All to reclaim what he believed was his.But he missed someth
Emilia woke to the sound of rustling.For a moment, her mind was suspended somewhere between sleep and memory, caught between the image of Lucien covered in blood and the rasp of his voice when he fell to his knees.But then her eyes blinked open, and she saw him.Lucien.Standing by the closet, shirtless, the gauze at his side stained deep red. His movements were slower than usual, calculated and quiet, as he folded a black shirt and dropped it into an open duffel.He was packing.And he was doing it alone.Her heart leapt in her chest. “Lucien…”He turned instantly, eyes snapping to hers. That cold, sharp awareness in them was dulled now, but not gone. Pain clung to him like a shadow, but so did something else.Relief.“You’re awake,” he said.She sat up slowly, wincing as her joints screamed in protest. “You’re awake too. You’re bleeding. You should be resting.”“I’ve had worse.” He crossed the room in three long strides, crouching at the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”“Yes.” She
Lucien hadn’t opened his eyes in over twenty-four hours.The doctor said he was stable. That the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. That the bleeding had stopped. But none of that mattered when she couldn’t hear his voice. When she couldn’t see the fire in his eyes.She sat beside him, curled up in the chair, knees tucked to her chest, unable to sleep. She hadn’t changed clothes since the warehouse. She barely ate. Her hand rested against his as if her touch alone could anchor him here, could call him back from wherever his mind had wandered.“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, voice cracked from hours of silence. “You don’t get to burn the world for me and then check out. That’s not how this ends.”His face was still pale, bandaged and bruised, but even unconscious, he looked… relentless. Like even death would think twice before touching him.She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, the ones that had been bloodied on Catalina’s face.Emilia swallowed the tightness in her throat. She
The SUV hurtled down the road, tires chewing up pavement like the devil was at their heels.Emilia sat in the backseat, Lucien’s head in her lap, her hands trembling as she pressed down on the wound at his side. Blood soaked through her fingers, hot and terrifyingly endless. He was pale. Too pale. But his eyes were still open, barely.“Stay with me,” she whispered, brushing the matted strands of hair from his forehead. “Don’t you dare die, Lucien. Not now.”He didn’t speak. Just grunted, teeth clenched, his breathing ragged. His jaw was tight with pain, but he hadn’t made a sound since they’d pulled him off Catalina.Julio was in the front seat, barking orders into a burner phone. “Yes, now. The doc should already be waiting. No, we don’t go to the estate. Safe house. The one in Monteverde.”Emilia stared down at Lucien, but her mind was still back in that room.In the red silk.The blood.The sound of Catalina’s skull cracking against the stone wall.Lucien had become something else
The warehouse exploded before the first shot was fired.Lucien didn’t flinch.Flames erupted across the dockyard, sending a plume of black smoke curling into the night sky. The chaos was perfect. A distraction, loud and brutal, exactly the kind Catalina would never expect from him.“Move in,” Lucien ordered, voice cold as ice, his gun gripped tight in his gloved hand. “Now.”His men poured forward, shadows in the smoke. Explosions were still rumbling from the far end of the yard, and the sharp echo of gunfire cracked like lightning across the harbor.Lucien moved with precision, slipping between metal containers and rusted crates, each step calculated. His mind wasn’t on the bullets flying or the bodies dropping. It was on one thing.Her.Emilia.Catalina had her.And Catalina had made a fatal mistake thinking that would end him.Lucien’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need revenge. He needed annihilation. He needed Catalina’s empire in ruins. Her name wiped from the underworld like it had n
The storm inside him had a name now.Catalina.Lucien stood at the head of the war table, eyes burning with a stillness more dangerous than rage. Every man in the room could feel it, the shift in the air, the silent promise of blood. This wasn’t strategy anymore. It was personal.“She has Emilia.”The room fell silent.No one dared speak.Julio, standing at his right hand, barely breathed.Lucien’s voice was quiet. Controlled. But beneath that calm was a fury that seethed with every breath.“She called me,” he continued. “Told me she took her while we were attacking the Alvaros. The hit was a setup.”Julio’s jaw flexed. “She played us.”“She used the Alvaros as bait,” Lucien said, fingers tapping the map. “Lured us out. Took her while I was distracted.”One of the younger men, Tomas, a sharp one, shifted nervously. “Boss… you think she wants to trade?”Lucien’s laugh was humorless. “No. Catalina doesn’t trade. She wants to destroy.”Julio leaned in. “We go to her directly. No more gam
The estate reeked of smoke and blood.Lucien stood over the remnants of the chaos, jaw clenched tight as the scent of charred wood and dried metal clung to his suit. Matteo is still alive, barely, he is badly injured. Julio had taken charge of the estate. And the rest of the men had been sent to lockdown points across the city.But none of it mattered. Not the dead. Not the destruction. Only one thing burned in his mind.Emilia was gone and it had been like something had split open inside him. And whatever had crawled out wasn’t human.It was rage. Cold. Methodical. Unrelenting.The air pulsed with tension, electricity dancing on every breath. They all knew what this was. What it meant when Lucien Moretti moved in silence.War.He’d called in every favor, every ghost, every man who owed him blood. The Alvaros had been a distraction. He saw that now. The real strike had been Emilia.He hadn’t even spoken her name.Not once.He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t spoken a full sentence that wasn’t an
He was beautiful in the way boys often were, young, lean, eager to please. Not yet carved by the world. Not like Lucien.Catalina straddled him, her hips grinding in slow, taunting circles, fingers tangled in his hair as he groaned beneath her. His name was Ben, or Leo, or something forgettable. He had a body made for sin and a mind easy to manipulate. She liked that about him. She liked how easily he gave in to her dominance, how his hands trembled when they touched her skin.But tonight, her mind was far away.It was on Lucien.Lucien, with his cold eyes and colder heart. Lucien, who once fucked her like a war, all teeth and bruises and brutal need. Lucien, who used to fall asleep with his head on her thigh and his gun beneath the pillow.Lucien, who had now traded her in for a trembling girl with soft lips and haunted eyes.Catalina bit her lip, her nails digging into the young man’s shoulders as he thrust up into her. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. But it would do, for now.“