Todos os capítulos de SOLD TO THE MAFIA HEIR : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 47

Isabella's POVThe air is thick, each breath tasting like ash and iron. I can hear the distant echoes of gunshots, but they’re becoming fainter. Vincent and Enzo are gone, and I’m alone with the predators circling in. The shadowy tunnel spreads out before me, filled with trash and shattered bodies. This is my stance, my attempt to buy them time. The footsteps slow, the clang of guns falling silent. They’re hunting now, tasting the excitement of cornering prey. I push my back against the wall, steadying my breathing. If they want a fight, they’ll get one. A shadow moves, barely visible. I hold my breath, calculating the seconds. Three… two… one. I move out, my sword slashing through the air. The attacker hardly has time to detect the movement before they fall. Another leaps at me, and I dodge, my punch striking with their jaw. Pain surges up my arm, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt, my voice cold and firm. It’s a lie. I’m running on fumes

Isabella's POVThe world blurs around me, a wild combination of screaming, gunfire, and flashing lights. Enzo’s weight feels heavy in my arms, his breath raspy and faint. Blood soaks through my palms, warm and persistent, and terror grips at my chest. This can’t be happening. Not again. “Stay with me,” I murmur, my voice shaking. “You promised.” His eyes twitch, and for a minute, I glimpse a spark of recognition. “I’m… here,” he whispers, the words scarcely audible. “Good,” I answer, attempting a grin that seems more like a grimace. “Then keep fighting.” The firing escalates, bullets ricocheting off the disintegrating buildings surrounding us. Vincent is a whirl of action, his every move precise and lethal. He’s holding them off—for now. But I can see it in his eyes. We’re running out of time. “We need to move,” Vincent cries, his voice piercing through the commotion. “Now!” “I can’t carry him,” I snap back, desperation coloring my words. “Not like this.” “Then we

Enzo’s POVThe stillness that follows the combat is deafening. The air stinks of blood and perspiration, the metallic taste mixed with the dust that still clings in the room. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, yet I push myself to stay on my feet. Isabella is by my side, her chest rising and falling with strained breaths. She’s alive. That’s all that matters. “We need to move,” Vincent adds, his voice breaking through the fuzz. He’s drenched in blood, some of it his, yet his eyes remain piercing and unrelenting. “They’ll send reinforcements.” I nod, the weight of his words sinking in my chest. He’s right. We can’t remain here. But every stride seems like a thousand. My body is a tangle of bruises and scrapes, and each breath is a reminder of how close we were to losing everything. “Can you walk?” I ask Isabella, my voice scratchy. She nods, her eyes catching mine. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.” “Too late for that,” I respond, a ghost of a sm

Isabella's POVThe room feels like it’s closing in, the flickering light throwing long, jagged shadows that dance around the walls. My heart pounds in my chest, each pulse louder than the previous. The masked person stands in the center, their presence smothering. I can’t pull my eyes away from them. There’s something familiar about the way they carry themselves, the way they tilt their head. But it doesn’t make sense. “Who are you?” I demand, my voice booming across the room. The firearm in my palm feels heavy, my grasp wet with sweat. The figure doesn’t answer. Instead, they take a step closer, their moves deliberate. I push myself to maintain my ground, to not give in to the panic clawing at my chest. Enzo stands by my side, his mouth locked, every muscle in his body rigid. Vincent goes to surround the figure, his gaze furrowed. “Talk,” Enzo growls, his voice low and deadly. “Or I’ll make you.” The figure laughs—a chilly, hollow sound that sends a shudder down my sp