All Chapters of The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal.: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking at the light above me. For a moment, I thought it was a dream, and I closed them again, willing myself to wake up. But no, it felt real. The sharp, clinical smell that filled my nose was right here.It didn’t just feel like waking. It felt like being dragged from the edge of darkness to light. My head throbbed and my chest tightened, breathing was hard. And I strained to see through the foggy blur in my eyes.Before knowing where I was, I felt a warm hand holding mine. The touch felt familiar, like someone I should have known. The shapes in my vision began to clear, and I focused on the person sitting beside me. Head in hands, shoulders hunched—him.My heart jumped a beat as I registered his presence.“Dontrell?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, hoarse and weak. Hearing my fragile voice startled me. His head snapped up at my words. His frantic eyes were wide, tears clung to his lashes.At first, I didn't fully recognize him, but memories trick

Dontrell's hand slid possessively around my waist, pulling me closer until I could feel his cock searing through the fabric of his trousers. My fingers clawed at him, desperate, tangling in his shirt as our kiss grew frantic. His breath was a harsh whisper against my lips, hot and demanding.“Every time I look at you, I’m reminded I’m a monster, but I still want to hold you in ways I shouldn’t.” He said it with such rawness, almost like he was confessing something darker within himself."I don’t care what you are," I responded, my head sliding to the centre of his trousers, feeling his cock. My voice trembled, almost like I was moaning. "I just want to feel you, even if it destroys me. I want to be your victim."He cupped my face, his mouth full of heat and promise. His fingers slid over my dress and took it off. With one smooth motion, it was gone, falling around my feet like air. Revealing the new bra from this morning.“Damn,” he muttered, eyes glinting like a child on a Christmas

The prison gate clanged shut behind me, a shrill warning. But I didn’t turn back.Once I mentioned Clayton Blade’s name, everything changed. They checked my ID and stamped a pass.They didn’t take me to the usual visitation area. No glass. No phones. No steel separation. No monitoring guards in ear range. No cameras pointing at my face.Instead, they led me down a quiet corridor to a heavy grey door.It felt like another world.The room was too clean—warm, with a table, two cushioned chairs across from each other, a couch in one corner, a bookshelf, and two fans. No cameras.Even a window. Walls painted dull beige, like they were trying too hard not to offend. A thick door sealed behind me with a loud buzz.What the hell was this? A luxury suite for monsters?I clenched my fists. That’s what you get when you’re the son of a godfather—prison perks.I sat stiffly in the chair facing the door. I didn’t lean back. I didn’t relax. I was burning too hot to sit still.The door creaked open.

Clayton stayed silent, arms folded, eyes narrowing like I’d insulted him. He looked pissed that I even asked. Fuck! I should’ve kept quiet because deep down I knew the answer already, and I regretted my question the second it left my mouth.He didn’t care. Not like that.From the start, he made it clear—this alliance was to get him out of prison and take revenge on his brother. I was just the means to an end, stuck in the middle of their war. The only thing we shared was a common enemy.“That’s beside the point right now,” he snapped. “Whether I care or not won’t save you. What’ll save you is shutting up and letting my plan work.”His voice sliced through the air, sharp—like a whip.“You’ve got a psycho in a suit slipping poison in your drink, calling you his queen. And you want to talk about emotions?” His laugh was cold. “Get your head straight, Allison. Love or care won’t protect you from someone like Dontrell. Smarts will.”He frowned. “Else you end up in a coffin.”If I didn’t kn

My mouth tasted like blood, though I hadn’t bitten my tongue. I just sat there, knees together, fists clenched in my lap like a child awaiting punishment. The silence was louder than Clayton’s voice. The silence was louder than Clayton’s voice. He’d said it—Dontrell killed Andrew. Breathing suddenly felt like a betrayal. My body trembled, but my mind screamed one question—how long had he been watching us?I shook my head violently. “No, no, Dontrell wouldn’t—he cried when Andrew died!”“As he would have cried too if Hollis had succeeded in killing me. The same hitman he used to eliminate Andrew was the one he sent to inject me too here a few days ago.” Clayton spoke unfiltered, abruptly.I got up from my seat; my knees buckled, but I caught myself on the wall. “ I didn’t pull the trigger”, I whispered, “but I killed Andrew… with my actions.”I sank back into the chair, tears slipping down my cheeks.Clayton didn’t soften. “He used your love for Andrew, your grief, your loyalty. Dontre