All Chapters of Married Off To The Merciless Mafia King : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

I didn’t bother to ask her what she meant by “took care of;” the meaning was all over her face.“I’d seen them when the men took them out of the car in the parking lot: a mother, father, and a teenage girl. She was around Timur’s age then. Under the rain, I snuck around the hidden passages and caught Rafayel watching through the cracks. The screams were terrifying, and the sound of gunfire continued echoing through every wall that night. Timur walked out of that room with blood on his clothes and splashes on his face, deadly silent. Till today, only he and his brother know the exact details of what went down in that study. But I know his father made him watch the torture and forced him to sit through it while he murdered that young girl and her parents. The only evidence that he was there was the incessant nightmares he battled with every night afterward. Rainy days only made it worse. All that man cared about was having his sons rise in the ranks, becoming top leaders in the Bratva.

The first aid kit was where it always was, tucked in a drawer in the kitchen. When I breezed inside, Serena was by the cooking gas. Her hand paused over the pot, her mouth fell open, and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she saw me.I didn’t even bother with the courtesy of a greeting. I didn’t even fucking bother to fully notice how radiantly she wasglowing in yet another yellow dress that stopped high above her knees. Opening the drawer, I yanked out the fucking box with more force than necessary, spilling nearly half its contents onto the counter. Bandages, antiseptic wipes, gauze—they scattered everywhere, and I cursed under my breath.I wasn’t sure which annoyed the hell out of me more: not being able to recall the last time I needed to use a first aid box or needing to use one at all.Grabbing what I needed, I stalked into the living room, throwing myself onto the couch. The leather creaked beneath me as I leaned back, wincing when the movement pulled at the torn

SerenaIn love.Love.A word that once felt so distant, like something other people spoke about but I never fully understood.My father loved me, I got to learn, in his own way. His version of love was distant, like the feeling of staring at the stars from a million miles away. A hug was rare, and at some point, a kind word was even rarer. Yet, I knew, deep down, that he cared. In his own way. It was just buried beneath the weight of his shortcomings with my mother.My mother…she was tougher but distant. If she loved at all, then it was love from the background, silently, without touch or reassurance. Maybe it was love, I suppose, but not the kind that filled you.Jayden, though. With him, I knew love—real, tangible, and full. He gave it without question, without hesitation. As a kid, he’d sneak into my room during storms, wrapping his small arms around me to keep the fear at bay. He stood by me, always, even when I didn’t agree with his choices. And I loved him just as fiercely. With

TimurMy brother kicked his legs up on my desk, leaning back on the seat with an unlit cigar in hand, a frown on his lips, and his brows drawn. I could tell what was going through his mind:every intention to fucking piss me off, that’s what.Two hours and counting, and it was fucking working.The sharp rustle of papers cut through the steady, cold silence between us when I flipped the pages of the logbook. My feet danced on the new Persian rug I had Arlo install two days ago, and I lost count of the number of times my teeth grated against each other.“If you have something to say….”I didn’t look at him but caught his shoulders’ swift movement while he flexed the Zippo lighter between his fingers. Pursing his lips, he played with it, opening and closing the lidwith maddening attention; the constanttickingbecame fucking irritating.“I don’t think I do.”Closing the logbook, I gave him a full glare, and he yawned. If there was one person who wouldn’t blink an eye at my rage or would rat

SerenaEverything around me was a blur, from white coats, sterile lights, and the endless noise of machines beeping. The pain searing through my body was sharp, unbearable, and consuming. My body felt like it was splitting apart, and I clung to the edge of reason when the door swung open.He strode in,my husband.My heart soared, and his presence immediately grounded me, like a storm breaking to reveal the calm. His dark eyes met mine, and for a moment, the pain dulled, replaced by relief so overwhelming that tears rose to my eyes.Some of the nurses tried to coax him to stay outside, but one hard look from him made them spring apart and give way for him to pass through.Smiling up at him, I whispered, “You’re here.”Marching past Doctor Maria, he didn’t say anything at first, just moved to my side. His expression was hard, but he was careful as he took my hand. His fingers were rough and calloused, but he held me tightly, his grip unyielding, like he was anchoring me to the world.“I