Semua Bab The Mafia Debt: Bab 51 - Bab 60

CassianI watched Aria crumble, her body shaking with sobs as the adrenaline drained from her system. She knelt on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass and blood—Max's and her own. Her hands trembled violently, still gripping that jagged shard she'd used to save both our lives."Aria," I said, keeping my distance. "Let me see your hand."She looked down at her palm, seeming almost surprised to see the deep cut there, still oozing blood. "I'm fine," she muttered, but her voice cracked on the second word."You're not fine," I countered gently. "You're in shock. Let me help you."I wanted to hold her, to tell her everything would be okay, but when I reached for her, she jerked away."Don't," she said again, more forcefully this time. "I said... don't touch me right now."I raised my hands in surrender, ignoring the burning pain in my wrists where the ropes had cut into them. "Okay. No touching. But we need to clean that wound, and we need to get out of here."Aria looked down at her

My father is dead. What am I feeling? Relief seemed too simple a word, yet nothing else fit. All the pain and misery he put me through, all the sleepless nights filled with fear and dread—it felt like I could finally breathe again.My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of adrenaline and the realization that it was over. The suffocating grip he had on my life had lifted. I felt like I was emerging from a dark tunnel into light for the first time.I looked at his body, but I felt nothing. There's no grief handbook for moments like this. Is this feeling normal? How should I feel about someone who didn't care whether I lived or died, someone who wanted to use me for his selfish interests?Cassian touched my shoulder gently. "We need to go."I nodded, unable to form words. He helped me to the car and drove to the safe house."You're safe now," he repeated as he parked the car. "No one knows about this place."The safehouse was sparse but clean—a typical Cassian space. Minimalist furnitur

I sifted through the pile of clothes Cassian had brought over,l. Near the bottom of the heap, I found it: a yellow sundress, knee-length with thin straps. Simple but cute. I held it up against my body, studying my reflection in the mirror. The bruises were already turning purple-yellow, a painful reminder of everything that had happened. I'd watched my father die. I'd asked for it to happen.Where was the grief? The guilt? The anything?I felt hollow, like someone had scraped out all my emotions with a dull spoon and left me empty.A movement outside caught my eye. Through the window, I could see Cassian standing on the beach. He seemed relaxed at first glance, but I'd spent enough time around him to recognize the alertness in his stance—the way his eyes never stopped scanning the perimeter.I pressed my palm against the cool glass, suddenly afraid. Not of him, but of this thing growing between us. What if he pushed me away again? What if this was temporary comfort in the aftermath o

We stopped beside a small fountain. The moonlight cast everything in silver, including Cassian's face as he turned to look at me."You keep looking at me like that, Aria," he said, "and I swear, your dress will be on the floor with you."Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I held his gaze. "Like what?" I asked innocently, though I knew exactly what I was doing.He stepped closer, bringing his body mere inches from mine. "Like you're imagining me taking you right here, up against that tree. Like you're daring me to show you what it feels like to come so hard you forget your own name."My breath hitched. "Is that so? And what exactly am I doing to make you say that?"He moved closer still. "You're driving me crazy with those eyes of yours," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Every look, every smile, it's like you're daring me to lose control."I smirked, emboldened by the naked desire in his eyes. I stepped even closer until our bodies were flush against each other, feeling his har

It has been a week. A week since Chloe broke into Cassian's house. A week since Cassian took the bullet meant for me. A week since Cassian lay near death in my arms.The scene replayed in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't escape. Cassian collapsing, blood pouring from his wound, staining his white shirt red. My hands trembling as I pressed against the hole in his chest, desperate to keep his life from slipping away."Cassian, stay with me," I had whispered, my voice breaking with each word.His eyes had found mine through the pain. "You need to call... for help," he'd managed.I remember staring at my blood-covered hands, panic rising in my throat. Who could I call? Not an ambulance—they'd ask questions. Not the police—they'd dig too deep. We were in a foreign country, at Cassian's private safe house. Who knows how many illegal stuff are stacked here? How many laws had been broken just getting here?My mind had raced frantically as I spotted Cassian's phone on the floor where it had