All Chapters of Bound To The Mafia: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

LUCAThe hot water scalded my skin, but I let it. Let the heat wash over me, searing away the remnants of sleep, of Isadora’s warmth, of the momentary softness that had no place in my world.Marcello Fiori was dead.The weight of it settled in my chest, mixing with the fury still burning there from Rafael’s news about Laura. Someone was making moves. Someone thought they could send a message through Isadora’s friend, and now, Fiori turning up dead? It wasn’t a coincidence.I braced my hands against the tile, the water pounding against my back. Focus. I needed to think, to stay ahead. Fiori had enemies—so did I. But if this was connected, if this was a prelude to something bigger…I exhaled sharply and shut off the water.By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, the scent of coffee and something warm drifted through the air. My stomach tightened, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since… hell, I didn’t even remember.Dressing quickly, I moved downstairs, my body still coiled with tension. B

LUCAThe basement was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made a home there. The air was thick—damp concrete, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood. A single overhead bulb flickered, casting jagged shadows against the stone walls.Alicia sat slumped in the chair, wrists bound, her lip split. Her once-pristine blouse clung to her skin, stained with sweat and something colder—fear. She barely lifted her head when I stepped inside, but her eyes flickered with something. Exhaustion. Defiance. Maybe even relief.Rafael leaned against the wall, arms crossed, silent. We both knew why we were here.I pulled up a chair, settling in front of her, elbows on my knees. "You look like hell."Alicia let out a breathy laugh, empty and brittle. "I've had better days."I studied her—the bruises, the sharp edges of her face, the way her fingers trembled slightly against the bindings. “You know why I’m here.”She nodded, slow and deliberate. "And you know what I'm going to say."

ISADORA The phone felt heavier in my hand than it should have. I hesitated before dialing, my heart pounding harder with each ring. When Laura finally answered, I almost forgot how to breathe. “Isa?” The sound of her voice sent a rush of emotion through me. My grip on the phone tightened. “Yeah. It’s me.” A long pause. “I was starting to think I’d never hear from you again.” Guilt twisted in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. “Luca wouldn’t let me call. He said it would compromise your safety.” Another beat of silence. Then, a sigh. “I get it. He’s probably right.” I rubbed my temple, exhaustion pressing down on me. “Still… I should have found a way sooner.” Laura didn’t immediately respond, and for a second, I thought I’d lost the connection. But then, her voice came through, softer this time. “How are you?” I swallowed hard, debating how much to say. “Laura, I’m pregnant.” Silence. Then, a sharp inhale. “You’re what?” “Pregnant.”

LAURA The soft hum of the city beyond the window was the only sound in the apartment. It was quiet—too quiet. I sat on the edge of the couch, gripping the small knife in my hand. My heart was steady now, but my body still held tension, my muscles coiled, ready. I hadn’t always been like this. But then, I hadn’t always been attacked in my own home either. A shiver ran down my spine as the memory flashed behind my eyes. A few nights ago... The door had burst open with a deafening crash. I barely had time to react before shadows poured into my apartment. Men—three of them. Their faces hidden, their movements sharp and calculated. I’d grabbed the first thing I could—a lamp—hurling it at the closest one. He staggered back, cursing, but it wasn’t enough. Hands grabbed me, rough and unrelenting. Panic clawed at my throat. I fought. Hard. My nails raked across skin. My knee connected with someone’s ribs. But I wasn’t strong enough. Not against all of them. One of them s

LUCAThe night air was sharp, carrying the scent of damp pavement and cigarette smoke as I leaned against the hood of my car, phone pressed to my ear."Nothing yet," Rafael muttered on the other end. "The bastard’s slippery, but he’ll show his face soon enough."I clenched my jaw, fingers tightening around the device. "Soon enough isn’t good enough."Rafael exhaled heavily. "I know."I ended the call without another word, shoving the phone into my pocket. My patience was wearing thin, and patience wasn’t something I had in abundance to begin with. Every second wasted out here was another second I wasn’t home.Home.The word twisted something in my chest.Isadora.I could still hear her voice from the last time we spoke—anger laced with frustration, a quiet plea beneath it all. She wanted in. Wanted me to talk to her.And I wanted to.God, I wanted to.But I didn’t know how.She thought I was keeping her in the dark because I didn’t trust her. She couldn’t be more wrong. I trusted her