All Chapters of Betrayed In The Mafia's Bed : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Astrella Honey's point of view “What the fuck,” I breathed out. My eyes widened to saucers and I wasn’t the only one. Ciejill sucked in a sharp, painful breath beside me, her fingers loosening so suddenly that her gun nearly slipped from her grip. Mine jerked upward on instinct, almost firing straight at Jasper before my brain could catch up with my sudden, panicked body. There he was. Jasper stood at the far corner of the room, backed against the damp concrete like a king pretending to be cornered. Beside him, mounted high on the wall, was a massive flat-screen TV glowing far too brightly for a basement soaked in blood and gun smoke. Then everything fractured. I felt it before I fully registered the scene the shift, the terrifying tension slicing through the air like a razor wire. My gun was no longer aimed at Jasper. It

    Astrella Honey's point of view I didn’t notice the pain at first. Adrenaline does that; it lies to you, wrapping you in a false, numb shield.It wasn’t until I instinctively tightened my grip around Dax, resting against him, and felt something slickly wet against my palm, that my stomach instantly dropped.That wasn’t all his blood.I looked down. A thick, alarming smear of red coated my fingers. My sleeve was torn roughly near my ribs, the fabric darkening fast, soaking up the stain.“Oh,” I breathed stupidly, the sound thin and shocked. “Great.”Ciejill, already moving toward us, glanced at me sharply. “You’re hit.”    “It’s fine,” I said automatically, the refusal a habit, then I sucked in a sharp, involuntary breath as the fiery sting finally caught up with me. “Okay. Not fine. But definitely not dying.”“Everyone’s suddenly very optimistic about bleeding tonight,” Ciejill muttered darkly, already tear

Astrella Honey's point of view Damn it. I must have slipped under without even realizing it. The next thing I knew, a deep, pervasive warmth surrounded me, not the sterile, biting cold of the medical room, but something soft, real, and heartbreakingly familiar. I blinked slowly, my lashes feeling like they were weighted with lead. Morning light filtered through the curtains in pale gold streaks, cutting across the room and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. My body felt impossibly heavy and sore, a dull, throbbing reminder that I’d been dragged through hell and stitched back together with nothing but sheer exhaustion and grit. Then, the reality of my surroundings settled in. I was in bed. And I wasn't alone. Dax was right there, his body a solid heat against mine, one arm draped possessively around my waist as if it had always belonged there. His chest rose and fell with a steady, rhythmic s

Astrella Honey's point of view The truth was just sitting there, laid bare in front of me like a loaded gun.The secret was out. I wasn’t just a survivor anymore, and I wasn't just "Dax Donomie’s wife." I was Igor Morozov’s daughter. A big shot by blood, whether I liked the weight of that name or not.It had been a week since everything went south in the Philippines. We were all still in that messy phase, recovering from the shock, dulling the pain, and trying to heal the physical wounds from a war that felt far from over. Honestly, the only silver lining was that I was finally mobile again. I was just glad I could run fast enough to get to Ciejill; if she annoyed me one more time, I was fully prepared to slit her throat.I stood in the middle of the penthouse, arms crossed and weight shifted to one hip. The air in the room felt different now. Heavier. It was like the walls were closing in, waiting for me to decide exactly who I was going to be.

Astrella Honey's point of view A few weeks went by like a long, held breath.It wasn't exactly peaceful, more like a heavy silence. New York just kept moving, totally indifferent to the fact that our entire world had been flipped upside down. We were recalibrating, trying to figure out our new normal. My life became a cycle of training sessions in the morning and high-stakes meetings at night. I was learning the hard way which rooms I could walk in and dominate, and which ones required me to sit back, watch, and wait before I opened my mouth.And now, the day was finally here, Igor was leaving.His suitcase was already sitting by the penthouse door. It was black, plain, and packed with military precision. Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything less. Igor doesn’t pack emotions; he packs exits.I stood a few steps back, my arms folded tightly across my chest, pretending I wasn’t counting down the seconds until he walked out.“Last call,”