All Chapters of Owned By The Mafia Lord: Chapter 461 - Chapter 470

MARCOI hated lying still. The ache in my leg was not the kind that broke a man, but it burned just enough to remind me that I had been caught off guard. That thought stung worse than the wound. I shifted in the bed, pushing myself up higher against the pillows, my hand gripping the side of the frame as if I could will strength back into my muscles. Every second wasted in this bed was a second I could not afford.The door creaked open. I already knew it was her by the soft sound of her steps. Sarah walked in holding a tray, her face tight with focus. She carried it like it was treasure, like it mattered if a spoon tilted or a cup spilled. She set it on the table near the bed and gave me a look before she even spoke.“You’re supposed to be resting,” she said.“I am resting,” I replied, adjusting my shoulders.Her eyes narrowed as she crossed the room. “Resting doesn’t mean fighting with the bed like it owes you money.”A small laugh left me. She always knew how to throw a jab when I le

SARAH I woke to the sound of the floor creaking. My eyes blinked open, and I saw Marco at the edge of the room, his hand gripping the wall, his leg stiff as he tried to take another step forward. He was leaning more weight than he should on that cane, and his jaw was tight, his body shaking from the effort.“Marco,” I said, my voice sharp from sleep.He glanced back, sweat already on his forehead. “Go back to bed, Sarah. I’m fine.”“No, you’re not fine.” I threw the blanket off me and got up quickly. “You shouldn’t even be standing like that yet. The doctor said rest.”“I’ve rested enough.” He tried another step, almost lost his balance, and caught himself on the wall. His face twisted with pain, but he straightened, stubborn as ever. “If I don’t push now, I’ll be limping for weeks. I can’t afford that.”I rushed to him, slipping my arm under his to steady him. “And if you tear it open again? What then? You’ll make it worse.”He shook his head. “I can handle worse.”“You’re impossibl

MARCOWeeks had passed since the leg injury, and I was done being kept inside like an old man. I sat at the edge of the bed, sliding into my shirt, when Sarah walked in, arms folded, her eyes set on me like a guard at the gate.“You’re not walking out that door until you show me you can walk across this room without falling,” she said.I let out a slow breath, already tired of the ritual. “Sarah, I’ve been walking fine for days. I don’t need a test.”“Then humor me,” she shot back, her chin tilted stubbornly.I pushed myself up, leaning on the cane, and started toward the dresser. Each step burned through my leg, but I wasn’t about to let her see me flinch. She stayed close, her hand hovering, ready to catch me like I was made of glass.“See? Perfect,” I said when I reached the dresser.“Perfect? That looked like it hurt,” she said, her tone sharp but her eyes softer than she wanted me to notice.“Pain isn’t the same as weakness.”She muttered something about me being impossible, shak

MARCOFriday night sat heavy on my shoulders. The office was dim except for the desk lamp, its glow falling over the map of Brooklyn spread out in front of us. My phone sat beside it, the last message still burned in my mind. Tony leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the map like it had already betrayed us. Petrov sat straighter, hands resting on his knees, calm but unreadable. No one said a word.I let the silence stretch until I felt it tighten in my chest. Then I spoke.“Pier 47,” I said, tapping the map with my finger. “Brooklyn docks. Midnight. That’s where he wants me. That’s where I’ll go.”Tony leaned forward fast, chair legs screeching against the floor. “Alone? You’re telling me you’re gonna walk right into Guido’s hands like that? Have you lost your mind?”His voice cracked through the room. I met his eyes without blinking.“That’s what he asked for,” I said. “I’ll give it to him. Alone. But not blind.”Petrov shifted his weight, voice even. “What do you mean,

SARAHI gripped the steering wheel tighter than I should have. My palms were slick, and I kept wiping them on my jeans every time the light turned red. Marco’s car was three cars ahead of me, dark and steady, moving with a purpose I couldn’t understand. I shouldn’t have been here. I knew it. Every voice in my head told me this was stupid. But the louder voice, the one that had been screaming since he walked out that door, kept saying I couldn’t just stay behind.He left me again. Left me with half truths, with that cold line, “This isn’t your fight.”But wasn’t it? If he got hurt, if he got killed, who was I supposed to be after that?The light switched green, and the car behind me honked when I didn’t move fast enough. My heart jumped, and I pressed the gas, trying not to lose him. For one terrifying second, I thought I had—he turned left at the last moment, and I almost sped past. My breath caught, and I slammed the wheel, swerving after him, nearly clipping the corner. My chest fel