All Chapters of I Sold Out a Mafia Boss: Chapter 91 - Chapter 98

Lana’s POVI tell myself the truth up here in the bedroom. The one I am so afraid to admit.I missed him. I missed Ricardo. I missed him terribly. The past few days without him have been a quiet, aching loneliness, a void that nothing else can fill.I know I shouldn't miss him. I know what he’s done. I know the bruises he’s left, the cruel words he’s flung like knives, the nights he’s broken me down until I sobbed into the shower tiles.A sane woman would despise him, hate him so thoroughly that the very thought of him would rot her insides. But I’m not sane anymore. He’s dragged me past that.I start to feel something sensual, a desire that I know I can only quench myself. I want to touch myself, to ease the ache, to feel a bit of control, but I remember Ricardo’s warnings about touching myself.And I listen.Even here, alone, with no chance in hell of him finding out, I obey. I laugh bitterly at myself. “Pathetic,” I whisper. I’m obeying the bastard even when I don’t have to. What’s

Lana’s POVWalking beside Angelo feels… strange. Not bad, not good. Just strange. He doesn’t touch me the way Ricardo does, doesn’t burn me with his eyes, nor does he consume me like I’m his oxygen.None of that. Angelo is calm, almost careful. His person is steady, respectful, and for some reason, that unsettles me more than being devoured whole.He opens the car door for me, bowing his head slightly like some old-fashioned gentleman. I blink at him, caught off guard, but I step in anyway. It’s either his playing this couple thing too well, or this is just how he is.The leather interior smells of expensive cologne. He closes the door after me, circles the car, and joins me in the back seat.There’s a respectable distance between us. Enough space that our arms don’t brush, enough space that it almost feels like we’re strangers sharing a ride. And maybe that’s why I can’t shake the thought nagging at me: that he’s only being this respectful because he knows. Because he knows I’m his b

Ricardo’s POVI can hear the bass from the loud music as soon as I descend the stairs. Down here, the chaos is alive. For a second, I pause at the bottom of the steps, rolling my shoulders back and adjusting the tiny communication device tucked in my ear.I hear it hiss faintly with static before settling. That’s my lifeline to Angelo and the rest of my men scattered across the club. It’s also a reminder that I am in control of this entire spectacle.I move through the crowd, scanning faces, in search of my Lana. A couple of punks lean against a rail with smoke curling from their lips as they watch half-dressed girls dance on tables. I stop in front of them.“Hey,” I call sharply. “Have you seen Angelo? Birthday boy?”They stiffen when they register who I am and their cigarettes pause midair. “Yes, capo,” one of them nods eagerly, pointing with two fingers towards the back.His friend mimics the gesture, like a pair of nervous parrots. I follow the direction, weaving through the bodie

Alma’s POVThe pen feels heavy in my hand, heavier than it ever should. My fingers tremble as I scrawl the last lines of the letter. The words blur together because of how weak I’ve gotten.My body doesn’t obey me like it used to; even lifting my wrist feels like dragging chains. But I keep writing. I need to finish.Ricardo said he’d read every letter before I send them out. He smirked when he told me that, like he already knew nothing I wrote could save me. And maybe he’s right. Still, I write them. To my mother, to Charles… even to someone who will probably curse my name.And that one letter, I won’t let him see. It’s the one addressed to Lana. Every stroke of her name on the page feels like a wound reopening. I betrayed her. I betrayed my own conscience. If only I had told Charles the truth, told him Ricardo had Lana all along, maybe none of this would be happening.Maybe she wouldn’t be stuck in Ricardo’s twisted world. Maybe I wouldn’t be here, in this locked room with death clo