บททั้งหมดของ Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book Two : บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Benji He struck me again, his belt snapping against the already raw and bruised skin from the morning's beating. I shouldn't have challenged him so quickly after volunteering myself as a sacrifice; I should have remained silent, allowing him to take her without a whisper of dissent. She means nothing to me; at least, that's what I tried to convince him—and myself. Yet, if he goes through with his lethal intent, how will I find a way to break free from this suffocating prison he has constructed around my family? The very thought gnaws at me, twisting in my gut like a vile serpent, tightening its grip with each passing moment. I watch her sleep, her delicate figure wrapped in the gentle embrace of my warmth, nestled against the expansive landscape of my body. I hold her close, an instinctual urge to shield her from the world's harshness pulsing through me. It is a forbidden act to share a bed with a woman unless Derek, my father, grants permission for intimacy, and though he did imp

Bianca I can't seem to eat; my body feels like it's been put through a relentless grinder, and every inch of me aches painfully. The evening is a blur—a hazy fog of confusion lingers in my mind. I awoke in a disorienting haze, lying next to a stranger, a man who was definitely not my husband. Him, I woke up wrapped around him. What is happening to me? And what on earth transpired last night? I pace the room, which echoes the devastation of a bomb site, every surface cluttered with remnants of chaos. Clothes of varying fabrics—some crumpled, others still folded—are strewn haphazardly across the floor, creating a disordered landscape that reflects a turbulent state of mind. Among the debris, broken picture frames lie scattered, their glass missing, and I can hear the sharp crunch beneath my feet with each tentative step as I break the wood even more. I pause to wonder if those empty frames had once held cherished memories, or if they merely served as hollow ghosts in this ro

Continued: "What's your father got to do with all this?" I interjected, my curiosity piqued by the tangled web of their relationships. "His name carries weight in the Puro organisation," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "He has always harboured a disdain for any mixing of blood that doesn't ensure our lineage remains purely Italian. All those arguments centred around Alexandra must have sent him reeling into the depths of her family's past. His supposed change of heart was nothing more than a pretence; he knew exactly who fathered her and grudgingly accepted her heritage, even if it bruised his pride in the process. And as an act of defiance, he never revealed to me who the fuck I married and honestly what that meant for his sideline organisation." "So?" I frowned, feeling the gravity of his words sink in, the implications heavy in the air between us. Aurelio fucking Debois is behind this as much as Derek Densel is? And where does Giovanni fit into all this? "Alex

Continued: I watch, captivated, as Benji pulls out a small, intricate device hidden in his jeans pocket, his fingers moving deftly over the buttons while he mutters numbers under his breath. A flickering green light illuminates the door, bathing us in an eerie glow as it swings open, creaking softly as it reveals a passage shrouded in darkness. "Keep an eye out for my father. When he starts coming back from Giovani's, we need to have enough time to bring her back," Benji instructs, urgency lacing his tone as he addresses the men that accompanied us here. "And the loop?" One of the men interjects, his brow furrowed in concern. "It's an hour. Don't let me be late," Benji replies, determination etched on his face. He seizes my hand with a sudden, firm grip, pulling me through the threshold into the shadowy tunnel that looms before us like a gaping hole. The air is thick with the earthy scent of moist soil, and the temperature drops rapidly the further we walk. Tiny droplets of

Continued: I suspect the old men never truly intended to relinquish their titles. It seems they've conspired among themselves, weaving a complex scheme to return with greater strength than ever before. But if that's the case, why resort to faking their own deaths? Was that elaborate ruse simply another piece in their master plan, or was there something more sinister at play? If I'm right, the layers of deception hint at a deeper game, one where power is clung to with an iron grip, even from beyond the grave. "Aurelio was no ordinary demon; calling him a demon barely scratched the surface of his malevolence. He ruled with an iron fist, a relentless grip that allowed for no semblance of error or defiance. His edicts were equally unforgiving, crafted from a mindset that thrived on domination. Frequently, he would rattle on about "puro" this and "puro" that, an insatiable obsession with bloodlines that consumed his very being. He surrounded himself with loyal henchmen, tasked with the