All Chapters of Way Out: Owned by the Mafia Boss: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Luca’s POVI wasn’t sure when I stopped sleeping with both eyes closed.Maybe it was the night I slit Salvatore’s throat, or maybe it was when Dante called me his empire. But I knew what that really meant.Empires burn.I woke to silence.Not peaceful.Tense.Even before I sat up, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it—like pressure in the air before a storm. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, not because I thought someone had breached the penthouse, but because paranoia is survival in this world.When I stepped into the living room, Matteo was there.Alone.Too quiet.I didn’t speak. Neither did he.He stood, staring out at the city skyline, one hand holding a lit cigarette, the other tucked into his jacket like he was hiding something.Maybe regret.Or maybe a weapon.I waited.He finally said, “You think you understand this world now.”My jaw tightened.“I understand it better than you think.”He exhaled smoke, still not looking at me. “Then you know not everyone is happy w

Luca’s POVThe city pulsed with unease. After our confrontation with Enzo, a name lingered in the air like a specter: the Sovereign. Whispers of a new power rising in the underworld had reached us, but details were scarce.I sat in Dante’s study, sifting through intelligence reports. Patterns emerged—territories changing hands without bloodshed, alliances shifting silently. It was as if an invisible hand orchestrated the chaos, guiding events from the shadows.DanteLuca’s observations mirrored my own. The Sovereign was not just a myth; they were real and methodical. Their influence seeped into every corner of our world, challenging the very foundation of our power.I summoned our most trusted informants, demanding answers. One name surfaced repeatedly: Umbraion. A figure cloaked in mystery, known for manipulating events without ever stepping into the light.LucaThe name Umbraion sent chills down my spine. Legends spoke of a man who could bend wills and reshape empires with a whisper

Luca’s POVThe city smelled like smoke.Not the kind that drifts from chimneys or burns from cheap street food.This was acrid. Sharp. Angry.It smelled like something had been set on fire, and no one had any intention of putting it out.I stood on the balcony of the east end safehouse, watching black smoke drift into the pale morning sky.Two buildings had burned last night. One belonged to us. The other had innocents inside. Both were ash now.Umbraion had made his move.And now the city was unraveling.I gripped the railing until my knuckles turned white. This wasn’t just about power anymore. This was about war. And worse—this was personal.Hours earlier, I’d gotten the call.“Boss, it’s Paoli,” the voice crackled through the line, shaky, breathless. “They hit the docks. Four men down. Warehouse is gone. They torched it.”I was already halfway dressed. “Who hit it?”A pause.Then: “We don’t know. No insignia. But they moved like military.”Of course they did. Umbraion didn’t build

Luca’s POVThe city’s underbelly had always been a network of shadows and whispers, but the Hollow Sect operated in a realm even deeper—where silence was law and identity was fluid. Infiltrating them wasn’t just a mission; it was a descent into anonymity.Dante handed me a dossier, thin and unmarked. Inside, a single photograph: a woman, mid-thirties, eyes like obsidian, expression unreadable. Her name: Selene.“She’s our in,” Dante said. “Disillusioned with Umbraion’s methods. If anyone can be turned, it’s her.”I studied the photo, committing every detail to memory. “What’s her role?”“Recruitment and indoctrination. She shapes minds before they’re broken.”Perfect. If I could reach her, I could understand the Sect’s psyche.The initiation was brutal. Blindfolded, I was led through a labyrinth of corridors, each step echoing with the weight of unseen eyes. Voices murmured in languages I couldn’t place, and the air was thick with incense and something more metallic—blood, perhaps.Th

POV: LucaNo amount of training prepares you for walking into a place you know you might never leave.The Boston freight yard looked like it hadn’t seen daylight in a decade. Rusted tracks. Chain-link fences curling like dead ivy. Everything coated in soot, fog, and silence.But beneath it?The summit.Umbraion’s table.The heart of the Ember Pact.Dante and I crouched beside a rusted cargo container, hidden in shadow as the drone above fed us intel. Enzo’s people were tracking five vehicles arriving from different directions.Selene’s voice crackled through the comms. “They’re moving into position. 14 confirmed targets. Two more unconfirmed.”Dante whispered to me, low and close. “You still sure?”I looked at him.“No.”He smiled faintly. “Good. That means we’re sane.”We moved in with four others—two ex-military, two loyal soldiers from Dante’s original guard.It was surgical.Or it was supposed to be.We breached through the maintenance hatch on the northeast side. Metal screeched