Semua Bab Owned By The Mafia Lord: Bab 361 - Bab 370

THIRD PERSONThe place felt hollow. No laughter, no music, no clinking bottles, no heels tapping across the tiles. Just air thick and stale. The blinds were halfway shut, slats of sunlight cutting across the floor like prison bars. It smelled like old smoke and sweat that didn’t wash out.Vincenzo woke slow, his body aching like he’d been hit by a truck. The blanket was bunched up at his feet. The couch creaked under him as he sat up. His mouth tasted like something died in it.He blinked a few times, let his eyes adjust. Nothing moved. No voices. No girls whispering, no giggles. No smell of perfume. Just dust in the air.His throat was dry. His chest felt tight.He looked over to the window. Angelo’s chair sat there. Still. Empty.No coffee mug on the sill. No half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. Nothing.His heart thumped once, heavy.That chair? That was Angelo’s spot. First thing in the morning, every day. Like clockwork. Sit there, smoke in hand, black coffee, watching the stree

MARCOThe whiskey burned just right tonight. I stood by the window in my study, glass in hand, watching the quiet street outside. The city never really slept, but my house had, for the first time in days, it was silent. No footsteps. No broken furniture. No shaking breaths from the woman I swore I’d protect.My phone buzzed. I didn’t even need to look. I already knew.“Package delivered. Ready when you are.”The Executioner never sent words unless it was done.I let out a long breath. Angelo was in our hands now.“He thought he could hurt what’s mine and get away with it,” I muttered, staring at the streetlamp flickering outside. “He really believed I wouldn’t come for him.”He didn’t just cross the line. He burned the line, pissed on it, and laughed while doing it.My mind wandered back to that night. The door hanging off the hinges. Shattered glass crunching under my boots. Sarah standing there in the middle of it all, barefoot, trembling, trying to pretend she wasn’t scared. Her vo

SARAHThe bed felt too wide. I reached over, hoping maybe he’d come in without me noticing. But his side was still empty. Cold.I opened my eyes fully. The room was dim, moonlight slipping through the curtains. I sat up, rubbing my hand down my face. I’d been waiting. I told myself I’d stay awake till he got back. I must’ve dozed off somewhere in the wait.He said it wouldn’t take long. Just something small to handle. Nothing big.I pulled the blanket around me tighter, but it didn’t help. The silence felt heavier than the night. I hated this part. The not knowing.Minutes passed. Maybe more. I gave up pretending I could lie still.I pushed the blanket off and swung my legs to the side. Marco’s shirt was still draped over the chair. I grabbed it and threw it on. I didn’t bother with slippers. I walked out.The hallway was quiet. Just the soft creak of the old wood as I stepped. When I reached the front door, I hesitated, then pulled it open.The guards looked up, straightening fast.“

SARAHThe sheets were still warm when I opened my eyes. Light spilled in from the wide windows, casting gold across the floor. I could feel Marco’s arm heavy around my waist, his chest steady behind my back. For once, there was no tension in his hold. Just peace.I didn’t move for a while. I just lay there and listened to his breathing, soft and even.He was still asleep when I turned a little to face him. His mouth was parted. Hair a bit messy. He looked younger like this. Lighter.“Staring again?” he murmured without opening his eyes.I smiled. “You caught me.”His eyes opened then, sharp but soft at the same time. “You should’ve woken me. Could’ve stared properly.”“You looked too calm. I didn’t wanna ruin it.”He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Nothing you do ruins anything.”We stayed like that for a few more minutes, arms tangled, silence warm between us.Eventually, we ordered breakfast—pancakes, eggs, some espresso. The food arrived quick. Marco pulled the t

SARAHIt was still early, but my eyes refused to shut again.I lay there for a while, tucked in the sheets, watching the soft morning light slide slowly across the wall. The room was quiet, peaceful, almost too still for the thoughts running through my head. My body felt sore in that lazy, sweet way after being touched the way he touched me last night. I smiled to myself, then frowned, then smiled again. It was ridiculous how one night with Marco could still make me feel like a shy girl all over again. My cheeks warmed as I shifted a little under the covers.I turned my head slowly toward him.He was still sleeping, back against the pillows, one arm tossed over his stomach. His chest rose and fell, calm, steady. His hair was messy from sleep, and a strand of it curled across his forehead. I reached over, gently brushing the strand back, then let my fingers rest in his hair for a second. He didn’t stir. I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.“Sleep, baby,” I whispered,