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SEVENTY-SEVEN
publish date:
2026-10-11 15:00:13JORDYN
I wait for him to stop me. Inwardly begging him to say something.
One second.
Two.
Nothing.
The disappointment comes so quickly it almost knocks the air out of me. I should have expected it. I gave him the choice, and he made it. Maybe part of me really believed that if I put everything in front of him, if I made him understand that this was the last time I was going to chase him, he would finally meet me halfway.<
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AREŚAs soon as I step back into the manor, the silence feels different. It’s not cold or empty, just... still. My boots echo through the hallway, the blood already drying on them, the scent of gasoline and sweat clinging to me. I should shower. I should clean up the wound on my side that reopened on the drive back. There’s a lot I should do. But I don’t. I head straight to my room. Something draws me there, like gravity, instinct, or maybe just the need to see something that hasn’t bled out in front of me tonight.The door opens with a soft creak. And then I pause.She’s there. Jordyn.Fast asleep on my bed, curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek like a scene out of a dream. Resting on her chest, a perfect grey ball of fluff, is Ladro. His tiny pink paws twitch with each purring breath, and her other hand rests on his back, fingers entwined in his fur.A quiet hitch rises in my chest. She’s still wearing the purple dress from this morning, her hair slightly tousled, her f
Ruined by The Mafia Heir SEVENTY-NINE
AREŚThe warehouse reeks of a potent mix of oil, rust, and blood, a stench so thick it clings to your skin. It’s the kind of hidden reserve no one stumbles upon by chance. Nestled behind neglected shipyards and encircled by chain-link fences, it's a zone no cop would dare enter without ample reinforcement. That's precisely why I chose this location. It’s the perfect stage for a dramatic statement.Which is exactly why I brought them here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that revenge isn’t enough...you have to make it memorable.Suspended by his wrists, the Ferrara runner hangs like a broken marionette, his shirt drenched in blood, which has dried into a crusty, cracked map across his temple. He teeters on the edge of consciousness, his head drooping forward, yet he clings to life. For now.Dante stands to the side, arms folded across his chest, his jaw like granite with tension.“You’re sure he didn’t talk?” I inquire, my voice a low, unwavering murmur.Dante gives a s
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JORDYNI should leave.He told me to go home.But my legs don’t seem interested in listening, and my heart doesn't seem to want to settle since the second he walked out of the room.The silence in his house stretches long and heavy. But it’s not cold. Or maybe it's because I'm becoming more accustomed to it.It just feels like him.Wound tight. Controlled. But full of shadows that never quite reach the surface.I drift down the hall instead of toward the front door.Just for a minute, I tell myself.I’ll find Ladro, make sure he’s okay, and then I’ll go.And sure enough, I find the little furball curled on a plush grey blanket at the end of the hall. Ladro opens his eyes and blinks once, then mews like he’s been waiting for me all day.“Hi, trouble,” I whisper, scooping him up.He purrs instantly, loud and u
Ruined by The Mafia Heir SEVENTY-SEVEN
JORDYNI wait for him to stop me. Inwardly begging him to say something.One second.Two.Nothing.The disappointment comes so quickly it almost knocks the air out of me. I should have expected it. I gave him the choice, and he made it. Maybe part of me really believed that if I put everything in front of him, if I made him understand that this was the last time I was going to chase him, he would finally meet me halfway.He doesn’t.So I nod once and turn away before he can see how much it hurts and walk towards the door.Each step feels heavier than the last. By the time my fingers curl around the handle, my throat aches with everything I refuse to say. I press it down and pull the door open.It barely opens before Areś’s arm appears above my head. His palm slams flat against the door, forcing it shut before I can pull it open any further.A startled breath slips f
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