Semua Bab The Mafia's Kidnapped Bride: Bab 111 - Bab 120

LorenzoI stared at her, lips swollen from my kiss, eyes blazing with the kind of fire I’d never seen before in her. Aryn wasn’t afraid. Not of me, not of what I’d just done. She had every reason to shove me away, slap me, spit in my face. Instead… she kissed me back.And that terrified the hell out of me.Her words replayed in my head—“You’re not a monster, Ren.” She didn’t know how wrong she was. If she saw the things I’d done, the blood on my hands, she would never look at me like that. Not with hunger. Not with defiance. Not with something dangerously close to longing.“Fuck,” I muttered again, dragging my hand over my face, trying to regain control. Control was all I had ever known, and yet one woman—this infuriating, stubborn, impossible wife of mine—shattered it with a single kiss.She didn’t give me time to think. Her fist curled into my tie and yanked me forward, her mouth crashing into mine again. I froze for the barest second before instinct, desire, and years of repressed

Lorenzo The air in the prison was damp, cold enough that it crawled under my skin and stayed there. I hated this place. Not because it wasn’t effective—it was—but because it reminded me of weakness. Men locked behind bars, chains clinking, eyes burning with either hatred or despair. It was a mirror of what could happen if you lost control in this world. it reminded me of things I want to put behind.And then there was Liam.He sat on the narrow bench like he owned the fucking place, his chin lifted, eyes steady. His shirt was wrinkled, his jaw dark with stubble, but there was no shame in his stare. He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t begging.He was waiting.When the guards unchained him, he rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of days. His eyes flicked to Aryn first, then to me, sharp and unafraid.“You want my help?” His voice was hoarse, but not weak. “Then I’m not moving a muscle until I eat something. And I need a fucking shower.”I laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You’

ArynMy fist clenched so tight my knuckles cracked, the urge to smash Isabella’s smug little face against the nearest wall pulsing like a drumbeat in my veins. The way she said it—about my sister, like it was just some casual gossip she could toss into the air and walk away from—made my stomach twist.I stepped into her space, close enough that she could smell the wine still lingering on my breath. “You want a fight, Isabella?” I hissed. “Fine. I accept your challenge. Name the time, name the place. I’ll make sure you regret every fucking word that just dripped out of your mouth.”Her eyes gleamed, satisfaction flickering across her face like she had gotten exactly what she wanted. She tilted her chin, lips curling into that poisonous smile. “Tomorrow at dawn. The courtyard.”“Good,” I spat, my voice low and steady even though my pulse was pounding like a war drum. “Bring your arrogance. I’ll bury it with you.”For half a second, I thought about just doing it right then—skipping the f

ArynI was pretty sure Lorenzo’s grip felt like iron, his knuckles white as he held Brandon against the wall like he could crush his windpipe with just one hand. For a moment, I thought he really would. Hell, I almost wanted him to. Brandon’s smug little grin always had a way of making my blood boil, and right now, seeing Lorenzo shake him felt satisfying as fuck.But Brandon, slippery bastard that he was, still had that smile even as he choked for air. His lips twitched like he was about to laugh, and it only made Lorenzo’s jaw tighten more.“Ren,” I said softly, stepping forward. “You’re not going to get shit out of him by killing him right now.”Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to mine, burning, but he didn’t let go. His whole body was stiff, vibrating with the kind of rage I’d only ever seen when his family was mentioned. Brandon knew exactly which buttons to push, and he’d pressed all of them in under five minutes.Marcus, of course, leaned casually against the arm of the sofa, arms folded

LorenzoWhen they dragged her out of the room earlier, it took everything in me not to fucking follow. My chest had tightened, my fists had clenched, and I swear if Brandon had so much as smirked the wrong way, I would’ve torn his throat out with my bare hands.I’d given him a look before she left—a look that said if anything happened to her, if a single hair on her head was touched, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d fucking kill him, and I’d enjoy it. He knew I meant it. That’s why he hadn’t dared hold my gaze too long.Yeah, I knew Aryn could take care of herself. She was strong, stubborn, sharp as hell. But I could take care of her better. And the truth? I hated being separated from her. I hated the idea of her being surrounded by people who’d look at her like she was a prize to be won instead of the woman who already belonged to me.The ballroom had been buzzing with voices, laughter, fake smiles. Masks everywhere, hiding faces but not intentions. Marcus had been nearby, silent, his grin w