All Chapters of Bound To The Mafia: Chapter 121 - Chapter 128

‎‎EMILIO‎‎The man across from me was trembling, and not from the cold.‎‎I liked that.‎‎I lit a cigarette, the tip glowing like a dying star. The smoke curled upward, slow and deliberate, a quiet reminder that time was never on anyone’s side but mine.‎‎“She’s outlived her purpose,” I said simply, flicking ash into a crystal tray.‎‎Santos swallowed hard. “You’re sure you want to—?”‎‎My eyes snapped to his, and he flinched.‎‎“You questioning me, Santos?”‎‎“No, sir. Never.” He straightened, pretending he had a spine. “Just… she’s been with us a long time. Bianca’s—”‎‎“—a liability,” I cut in, calm as ice. “She thinks sleeping with secrets makes her safe. But when loyalty starts to waiver, the only thing keeping someone alive is their silence.”‎‎I stood, smoothing the sleeves of my jacket. “She knows too much. She talks to the wrong people. She’s already aligned herself with Morretti. You really think I’m going to wait for her to slip a blade between my ribs?”‎‎Santo

‎ISADORA ‎ ‎Luca laughed at something Rafael said, the low rumble of it curling around the hallway walls and crawling under my skin. ‎ ‎I paused at the archway, watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. The study was awash in golden light—books, whiskey glasses, the faint scent of cigars and secrets. Luca’s posture was relaxed, his hand sweeping casually as he poured a drink. Rafael leaned against the desk, arms crossed, smirking. Like nothing had ever shifted between them. ‎ ‎But I remembered. ‎ ‎I remembered Luca storming into that garden, face thundercloud-dark. I remembered Rafael's stare—tight-lipped, unreadable. Whatever truce they’d shaken hands on, it wasn’t clean. ‎ ‎So why did they act like it was? ‎ ‎The door creaked as I stepped back. I didn’t want them seeing me. Not yet. Not when my head buzzed with questions they both refused to answer. ‎ ‎Later, when we were alone in the bedroom, I tried to press him gently. “You and Rafael seem... good ag

‎ ‎ISADORA ‎ ‎The rehearsal dinner was golden. ‎ ‎Candlelight kissed the rims of wine glasses, soft music floated like silk through the garden, and laughter echoed in the air like the world had never broken me. For the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe. No suspicion. No shadow. Just tonight. ‎ ‎Luca kissed my shoulder before the toast, leaned in and murmured, “You’re glowing, Princess.” And for once, I didn’t roll my eyes. I let him touch me. I let the warmth soak into my skin like I hadn’t been cold for days. ‎ ‎Tomorrow, I’d be a bride. ‎ ‎Tonight, I was free. ‎ ‎I danced with my mother. Took tequila shots with Laura—yes, even she managed a smile that wasn’t forced. Rafael spun me once beneath the fairy lights and said, “You’re trouble,” with that crooked grin of his that made me laugh like I hadn’t buried pain under my ribs. ‎ ‎For two hours, I let it be real. ‎ ‎No questions. ‎ ‎No weight. ‎ ‎No doubt. ‎ ‎But the moment I walked

‎ISADORA‎ ‎The estate’s marble floors gave way to dewy grass, soft beneath my bare feet but too cold, too damp—like even the earth wanted to warn me off. The night air hit sharp, slicing through the silk of my gown and skin like a blade dipped in memory.‎‎I needed to breathe. But all I could do was burn.‎‎My fingers shook. My chest felt too tight to hold air. So I went to the only place that had ever felt real here—the garden.‎‎Fairy lights still shimmered in the trees, soft and gold, like they hadn’t witnessed death wrapped in photo paper hours ago.‎‎Near the fountain, Laura and Rafael stood close—too close. Their heads bent toward each other like a secret was dangling between their lips.‎‎Laura saw me first. Her mouth parted, eyes wide. Rafael’s jaw tensed. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t give them the dignity of a nod, not even a glare. I walked past them like smoke—drifting, shapeless, done with being held.‎‎I collapsed into one of the garden chairs. Cold iron met my spi