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Past Full Of Ghosts.
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2025-05-23 22:20:14
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THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY A Psychopath for a husband?
“What’s the point of vows if they’re read in pain?”Noel’s hand trembled as the blade slipped down his sleeve. The letter opener was slick, cool against his palm, its weight feather-light…useless really, but in that moment, it was everything.His last hope.Jean was standing at the altar with that infuriating calm. That wolfish stillness that always came before he struck.The torches crackled. The waves thundered below. The stars above blinked as if turning away.Do it. Now.Noel stepped forward, smile carved into his face like glass.“Say ‘I do,’” Jean whispered.Noel tilted his head sweetly. “Burn in hell.”He moved.The blade swung.Jean caught his wrist.Fast. Precise.He squeezed.The letter opener clattered to the stone floor.Jean’s eyes changed in that instant.The calm shattered.And what looked back at Noel wasn’t the quiet madman he’d grown used to…it was something unhinged. A storm let off its leash.Crack!Noel’s face whipped sideways from the slap. The sound echoed like
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY He shook hands with the devil.
-17 Hours Ago-"We made a deal, Carlton."Jean’s voice was gentle. Too gentle.Carlton Laurent's skin crawled. The chains around his wrists had carved angry, festering lines into his skin, but none of that pain matched the sheer, visceral dread flooding his body as Jean stepped into the cell again.This was the man he’d called once for help.Now, he was praying to never see him again.“You said…” Carlton started, panic coating his words.“I said you'd be protected. And you were. I held up my end.” Jean tilted his head slightly. “But you? You failed spectacularly.”“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Carlton spat. “I should’ve never trusted you.”Jean just smiled, moving to the steel chair in front of him and sitting down like they were catching up over espresso. “That’s the first true thing you’ve said today.”Carlton’s laugh was hollow. “Is that supposed to be clever?”“No,” Jean said. “Just… accurate.”The silence that followed was jagged. Carlton's eyes twitched toward the cameras. Disa
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY NO ESCAPE.
Carlton’s breathing came in short, ragged pulls. She stepped back slowly, never breaking eye contact. That red dress clung to her like a flame ready to consume. The silence thickened…like smoke before the firestorm.“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking like splintered glass. “You don’t know what they’ll do to me…”She tilted her head, amused. “You think this is about what they’ll do?” She leaned close again, her breath warm against his cheek. “Carlton… this is about what I already did.”His eyes snapped wide. “W-What?”She straightened, arms crossing, nails painted black like claws against her pale skin. “You’re being hunted because of me. I gave them the names. The routes. The offshore accounts. Olivia didn’t run because she was afraid of them. She ran because I made her,after she should the documents to Isadora,I went for the names, darling.”He shook his head violently. “No… no you’re lying.”“Am I?” She gave a mocking grin, then looked to the guard. “Check
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY Past Full Of Ghosts.
"He must be hurting..." Vincenzo muttered under his breath, voice barely audible over the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel-strewn alley.The moon was high and indifferent in the sky, casting a ghostly sheen across the abandoned port town where Vincenzo had chased another lead. Blood stained the edge of his sleeve…not his own…but from a man who'd given up a scrap of information after Vincenzo crushed his ribs like paper. Noel. All he wanted was to find Noel.Each night was a darker hell than the one before. Each whisper, each dead end another cut to his sanity."You think you can hide him from me? You think I won't burn the world down to get him back?" he growled to no one in particular, only the icy wind and the shadows answered.His gloved hand trembled slightly as he looked at the blood on his fingers. "He's scared. He doesn't know where I am. He thinks I left him."He squeezed his eyes shut, as though he could block out the image of Noel…cold, bleeding, chained somew
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY THE Weight of being the Mafia's lover.
"You should not sit up, mon ange. You'll tear the stitches." The voice was soft, melodic, and disturbingly serene. Noel's eyes flickered open, pupils adjusting slowly to the warm, diffused sunlight spilling through white gossamer curtains. He blinked once, twice, then let his gaze sweep the enormous room. Everything gleamed…white marble floors, gold-accented furniture, ivory silk drapes. Gilded mirrors hung between massive French paintings, their strokes bold and romantic. The bed beneath him was impossibly large, dressed in snow-colored sheets, pillows stacked behind his back like clouds. And beside the bed, perched gracefully in a white velvet armchair, was a man who did not seem real. He was lean, pale…almost ghostlike…with light-blonde hair that shimmered like spun platinum in the sunlight. He wore a white shirt, sleeves rolled, collar open. In his lap was a sketchbook. His slender fingers moved effortlessly with a pencil across the paper, capturing something unknown with obses
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY ONE HEAD OF THE HYDRA
"You should've stayed in the hospital, De Luca. It seems you've finally gone mad," sneered Dario Falco, the smug-eyed bastard who had sent the nurse.Vincenzo didn't flinch. His presence devoured the hall the moment he stepped in…sharp black suit stained with the echo of blood, his jaw locked, eyes like twin barrels of hellfire."No," he said coldly. "I'm just awake now.""Awake?" A council member to his right scoffed. "You think you can come here, reeking of rebellion, and lecture us?""We made you!" someone else spat."And you tried to unmake me," Vincenzo replied, voice low and lethal. "By targeting what's mine."They laughed. Even the guards behind them chuckled, amused by what they thought was desperation. Dario Falco rose from his seat, clapping mockingly."Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You've come to beg, haven’t you? You think Don Ramon's shadow can protect you again?""That coward?" another jeered. "He shot Alonzo and ran like a dog.""Your father's disgrace has finally blo
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY TO END A WAR?
The soft hiss of the IV line was the only sound in the hospital room, faint and steady, like a serpent in the shadows. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long slashes across the sterile floor. The male nurse stood by the bedside, eyes darting to the door, then to the syringe in his gloved hand. His breath was shallow, sweat glistening at his temple.The clear liquid inside the syringe caught the light…a poison meant to never be traced.He adjusted the drip tube carefully, steadying his hand. The pulse monitor beeped in a sleepy rhythm, the only sign of life from the still figure on the bed. Noel looked like a porcelain doll in sleep. Fragile. Beautiful. Vulnerable.The needle inched toward the IV line.Then…Noel's eyes fluttered open.Hazel blue like met the nurse’s dark ones. Wide, dazed, blinking. A breath rattled weakly from Noel's chest.The nurse froze.Noel couldn't move. Couldn't speak. But his eyes screamed.The syringe trembled in the man's hand. He gr
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY THE WATCHMAN.
"Don Ramon has spat in our faces."The words sliced through the heavy silence like a dagger. The underground council chamber, hidden beneath the ruins of an old basilica, echoed with the hiss of cigars, the clink of crystal glasses, and the low murmur of powerful men seething behind gilded masks of civility.The one who spoke…Marco Ventresca, oldest of the Seven and ruthless in his convictions…sat at the head of the long obsidian table, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair with a calculated fury."He killed Alonzo," another councilman, Galetti, growled. "His cousin. Blood of his blood.""Because Alonzo stood with us," Marco spat. "Because Ramon knew he’d speak out. He silenced him like the coward he’s become.""He's siding with Vincenzo. Protecting that boy...""Noel Laurent," Marco said with disdain. "The boy is the disease. Ramon is infected."There was a beat of silence. Then:"Then let’s cure him."Six pairs of eyes turned toward the one who had spoken. A younger
THE MAFIA DON'S PRETTY BOY COME UNDONE.
"Take it all out on me. Every ounce of fear, every tear you've held back. I can take it, Aria. I want to."The words tumbled from Francesca's lips, husky and low, as she pulled Aria inside her dimly lit apartment, slamming the door shut behind them. The city lights filtered through gauzy curtains, casting golden stripes across their skin. But inside, it was a different storm…raw, electric, and urgent.Aria didn’t respond with words. She crashed her lips into Francesca’s, her kiss fierce and frantic, tasting of panic and pain and desperate, wild need. She clawed at Francesca’s blazer, tugging it off her shoulders, then threw it to the floor. Francesca groaned into her mouth and cupped her face, holding her steady as their tongues tangled like they were fighting for dominance and surrender all at once.Clothes became casualties. Aria’s top tore down the middle, buttons flying. Francesca’s silk blouse was ripped over her head. Their bodies pressed together, hot skin to skin, fevered and
