TOXIC BONDS AND SHATTERED EXCAPES

Luca’s POV

The pier’s chaos froze in that moment—Dante’s face a storm of betrayal and fury, his gun trained on Rocco’s chest, Sofia standing behind him with her own pistol raised at me, her eyes cold as the harbor water. Agents swarmed the edges, flashlights cutting through the smoke, Chen barking orders to secure the scene. Viktor’s speedboat had vanished into the fog, carrying whatever remnants of his empire he could salvage. But here, in this shadowed corner, the real war raged: loyalties fracturing like glass underfoot.

“Sofia,” I whispered, voice raw from Rocco’s assault on my throat. Cum still cooled on my back, my body aching from the brutal fuck. “You… poisoned Marco? Why?”

She lowered her gun fractionally, but her expression didn’t soften. The vault drive dangled from a chain around her neck now—hidden tech, probably synced to her cloud. “You think this started with Dad’s hit? It goes deeper, Luca. Our parents weren’t just victims. Dad was skimming from the Bratva—small at first, to pay Mom’s medical bills. Viktor found out, ordered the accident. But Marco… he knew. He covered it up for Giovanni, kept the peace. When I hacked the old files, I saw it all. Marco let our family die to protect his. So I returned the favor.”

Dante’s voice was lethal. “Lies. Marco would never—”

“Wouldn’t he?” Sofia snapped, stepping closer. “He poisoned your father for power, Dante. I poisoned him for justice. Slow-acting toxin in his chemo drugs—administered during my residency rotations. Untraceable. I watched him waste away, knowing it was payback for Mom and Dad. But it wasn’t enough. Enzo promised more—taking down Viktor, the Vitales, everyone who touched us. Lovers? Allies? Whatever it took.”

Her motive hit like venom—grief twisted into vengeance, years of hidden rage. My sister, the compassionate doctor, had become a killer. “Sofia… how could you?”

She met my eyes, a flicker of the old her breaking through. “To protect you, idiot. You were blind in that consulting firm. I fed Enzo intel to keep you safe, but when the FBI grabbed you, Viktor accelerated. Now? It’s all unraveling.”

Rocco’s grip on my arm tightened, his body heat pressing against my naked back—a reminder of his claim. “Touching story, doc. But the accountant’s mine now. Sal wants his brain for our ledgers; I want the rest for fun.”

Dante advanced, finger on the trigger. “Let him go, Bianchi. Or I end you.”

Rocco laughed, shoving me harder against the wall, his free hand sliding down my stomach possessively. “Watch this, Vitale. See how your boy breaks for a real man.”

The standoff electrified the air. Agents hesitated, guns drawn but unsure—Morettis, Vitales, feds in a tangled web. Sofia’s revelation hung like a guillotine, but Rocco didn’t care. His dominance surged, intensified by the audience, the danger. He ground his hardening cock against my ass, still slick from his earlier release. “You liked it before, didn’t you? Begging like a bitch.”

Humiliation flushed my skin, but arousal betrayed me again—cock twitching despite everything. “Stop—”

“Shut up.” His voice was gravel and command, hand clamping over my mouth. He bit my earlobe hard, drawing blood, then licked it clean. “Spread wider. Show your ex how a Moretti claims.”

Dante’s eyes blazed, but Sofia held him back with a gesture. “Wait. This buys time. Viktor’s escape— he’s heading for a private airstrip upstate. Submarine pickup from his yacht wreckage, then jet to Moscow. But he’s got nukes in his pocket: hacked FBI files from Enzo’s cyber net. If he flees, he exposes everyone—Chen’s corruption, Pietro’s sins, even Sal’s Chicago dealings.”

Rocco ignored her, focused on me. His fingers plunged between my legs from behind—rough, invasive—circling my hole before shoving two in dry. I gasped against his palm, body arching involuntarily. Pain flared, but the dominance overwhelmed—his control absolute, unyielding. “Feel that, slut? That’s power. Not Vitale’s weak shit.”

He scissored brutally, adding a third finger, stretching me to the brink. I whimpered, hips bucking despite the shame. His other hand released my mouth to choke my throat—squeezing rhythmically, air rationed like a privilege. “Beg for my cock again. Louder this time. Let them all hear.”

“Please… sir… fuck me.” The words tumbled out, broken, as tears streaked my face. Dante’s expression shattered—pain, rage, something darker.

Rocco grinned triumphantly, freeing himself once more. His cock—still massive, unrelenting—pressed against me. “Good boy.” He thrust in slow this time—inch by torturous inch—making me feel every vein, every stretch. I cried out, nails scraping the wall. Once buried, he didn’t hold back—pounding with savage force, each snap echoing Dante’s marks from earlier.

His hand on my throat tightened further—vision spotting, world narrowing to the brutal rhythm. The other gripped my cock, stroking in cruel twists—edging me mercilessly, denying release while he hammered my prostate. “You come when I say. Scream my name.”

“Rocco—sir—please!”

He slapped my ass repeatedly—welts overlapping Dante’s—then bit my shoulder, drawing more blood. The pain-pleasure vortex intensified; I sobbed, begging incoherently. Agents averted eyes; Dante looked away, fists clenched. Sofia watched impassively, calculating.

Rocco’s dominance peaked—he flipped me to face him, lifting one leg over his shoulder, exposing me fully to the pier. Thrusting deeper in this angle, he choked harder, whispering filth: “Imagine Vitale watching forever. His boy, ruined by a Moretti. Come now—milk me, whore.”

The command shattered me. I came untouched—body convulsing, cum arcing between us in endless waves. The orgasm ripped like fire; Rocco followed, pulling out to coat my chest, marking me visibly, possessively.

He dropped me to the ground, zipping up with a smirk. “See, Vitale? He’s ours.”

But Sofia moved then—swift, deadly. She fired a tranq dart into Rocco’s neck from a hidden pen-gun. He staggered, eyes widening, then collapsed.

Dante rushed forward, pulling me into his arms, jacket wrapping my naked form. “Luca… Cristo, what did he do?”

I trembled, aftershocks wracking me. “I… I didn’t want—”

Sofia knelt, checking Rocco’s pulse. “Temporary. But Viktor’s plane leaves in an hour. The files—he’s got a dead man’s switch. If we don’t stop him, everything blows—FBI, Morettis, us.”

Sal emerged from hiding, Moretti men regrouping. “Clever, doctor. But you forget—Chicago owns the airstrip. Viktor’s not escaping. He’s joining us.”

The twist deepened: Sal and Viktor allied? Sofia’s eyes narrowed. “You used me. The poisoning motive… you fed me those files.”

Sal grinned. “Guilty. Now hand over the drive, or your brother pays in blood.”

As agents closed in, a new chopper thrummed overhead—unmarked, heavy guns swiveling. Whose? Enzo’s reinforcements? Or a ghost from the Vitale past, rising to claim it all?

And as Dante held me tighter, I wondered: had my submission to Rocco broken us forever? Or awakened something darker, a shared vengeance that could forge us anew?