บททั้งหมดของ BRIDE TO THE MAFIA HEIR : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Kylie's povI twisted the bobby pin again, but this time it didn't feel right. "No, not like that. Twist it the other way," Sophia snapped.I shot her a glare, eyes narrowing. "Forgive me if I'm not as skilled at picking my way out of handcuffs as you are." My voice was sharp, but there was no mistaking the frustration in it. Sophia's eyes met mine with a biting coldness. "You would be if you were better at following directions." She barely moved, but her tone was heavy with authority. "Twist it the other way."I exhaled loudly, dropping my shoulders in resignation. Whatever. I twisted the bobby pin around, this time going in the direction she wanted. The metal bit into my fingers, but I forced myself to keep working. A little jolt, a click, and then-freedom. The cuff snapped open, and Sophia's wrist slipped free. "Fucking finally." Her voice was a low growl, frustration leaking out as she snatched the makeshift pick from my hands, a little too roughly. She didn't thank me-she didn

"Got it." Sophia's words barely reached my ears, more a whisper than anything else."Just a second." I padded over to grab the lamp. It was bulky, awkward, but at this point, any weapon was better than none.Sophia nodded. She grabbed the other lamp and then cracked the door open.We waited. No alarms went off, no footsteps hurried down the hallway. Apparently, James trusted his people enough to leave us without a guard. Well, he was about to find out how wrong he was.I slipped into the hallway, Sophia following silently behind me. The feeling of bare feet on the cold floor wasn't ideal, but the shoes James had left me with were almost comically too large for her. So, bare feet it was.I counted the doors as we moved, trying to keep quiet. One. Two. Still no one. Three. I pointed at the third door down the hall. Sophia tried the handle, and it creaked open, just barely, but it was enough.Then, footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and closing in fast. I froze, heart hammering in my chest. W

Kylie's povI knew the second he passed out. I wasn't sure if it was from the pressure I was putting on his ribs-still so fragile after everything-or if it was the blood loss. God, I hoped it was just the former. Broken ribs could kill if they punctured something, but as long as nothing vital had been hit, he'd survive. A gunshot wound though? That would definitely take him.I glanced up. A car was pulling up the street, the headlights slicing through the dark. I could feel my pulse quicken as it stopped, the doors creaking open. This was it. No more running, no more hiding. I had five or six shots left in my gun, but there was no way I could get to it without taking my hands off Roberto's wound. The fabric of my sweatshirt was already soaked with his blood. I couldn't afford to let go.I closed my eyes, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them. I don't know if you're listening, God. I've made a grand mess of this. But spare Roberto. He never asked for any of this. It was a

The hospital room was silent, with only the rhythmic beeping of the devices tracking Roberto's health. Kylie remained by his bedside, her fingers intertwined firmly as if her hold could prevent everything from crumbling. She had been waiting for him to emerge from surgery for the past six hours, and now, as he lay unconscious, her thoughts were racing. The physicians remarked that he was fortunate. The bullet was just an inch away from his heart, yet the harm to his chest remained significant. He would make it through, but the path forward wouldn't be simple. That ought to have offered some comfort, yet Kylie couldn't dispel the burdensome sensation pressing on her. Her mind wandered back to the man in the vehicle John Finch. The manner in which he discussed Roberto, the suggestion of hidden truths Kylie was unaware of, caused her stomach to twist. Roberto had consistently been cautious about his history, sharing only fragments of his life prior to their meeting. At that moment, she

The air on the docks become heavy with the salty scent of the sea, mingling with the faint, acrid smell of diesel. Kylie, Roberto, and Micah crouched behind a stack of rusted shipping bins, the shadows concealing their paperwork as they surveyed the scene beforehand.The docks have been some distance from deserted. Men in darkish clothing moved in coordinated patterns, unloading crates from a cargo delivery onto ready trucks. Their moves have been sharp and efficient, and the faint glint of weapons on their hips confirmed what Kylie already suspected: they had been armed and dangerous."This doesn't feel proper," Micah whispered, his voice low.Kylie glanced at him. "You assume Finch set us up?""I wouldn't place it past him," Micah muttered.Roberto shook his head, his face light however resolute. "I don't remember. We need to see this through."Kylie's grip tightened on her pistol as she scanned the location once more. Finch's statistics were maddeningly vague, no information on wha