บททั้งหมดของ Way Out: Owned by the Mafia Boss: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Luca’s POVThe morning after never felt like this before.Mira was still asleep, her body curled into mine, skin warm beneath the rumpled sheets. Her arm lay draped across my chest like it belonged there, like we hadn’t just crossed yet another invisible line we swore not to. The early light bled through the blinds, casting strips of gold across the tangled mess of our clothes on the floor, the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the dresser, the undone pieces of a night we both let happen too easily.And yet… I wasn’t at peace.I should’ve felt something more than this tightness in my chest, this creeping itch behind my ribs. My hand lingered in her hair, fingers tracing the soft strands, but my eyes were locked on the ceiling. Blank. Heavy. Like it was pressing down on me, demanding I face a truth I couldn’t yet name.I wanted to blame the alcohol. The way she looked at me. The silence that begged to be broken with anything but words.But the truth?Last night felt good.Too good.And t

Dante’s POVThe city had always obeyed me.Its rhythm, its chaos, its cruelty—I thrived in all of it. I’d learned to control people the same way I controlled territories: slowly, precisely, until they didn’t know where their choices ended and mine began.But Luca wasn’t supposed to be one of them.He was the risk I allowed. The wildfire I thought I could keep contained. And now?Now he was the one thing burning through everything I had built—with Mira at his side, a blade twisted deeper each night I stayed away.I had no intention of returning to him.But still… I watched.It started with a drive I didn’t mean to take. A shadowed route through streets I hadn’t cruised since we met. The apartment I once entered without knocking now loomed like a wound I couldn’t stop touching.I wasn’t planning on getting out of the car.But I did.I wasn’t planning on going to the window.But I did.And then I saw it—them.Not just sex.Not just betrayal.Something more. A connection, frantic and desp

Luca’s POVIt started with the coffee.Not the taste, not the warmth—but the timing.The barista at his usual place greeted him with a too-familiar smile and handed over his order without asking. He hadn’t been there in weeks.Then the doorman at Mira’s building nodded at him like he’d been seen entering alone that morning.He hadn’t.And Mira—Mira had been… strange.She asked him three times if he slept well.Twice if he’d remembered to eat.She kept checking his phone screen when she thought he wasn’t looking, laughing too loud, talking too much. Like she was trying to fill the silence with sound.But Luca wasn’t listening to sound anymore.He was listening to the silence underneath it.At first, he told himself it was nothing. A bad night’s sleep. Nerves. The guilt still curdling in his gut from what happened a few nights ago—what he’d let happen with Mira.He didn’t love her. He knew that now. He didn’t even like her most days.She was a distraction. A shield. Maybe even a punishm

Dante’s POVThe feed froze for a moment—just one flicker—but Dante saw it.Luca had exited the building. No phone. No Mira. No warning.That was new.Dante leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. Not happiness. Amusement.You’re starting to see me, aren’t you?For weeks, Dante had been meticulous—like a surgeon. He didn’t just disappear from Luca’s life. He disappeared into it. Quiet as dust, present in ways Luca would only feel, not see.A shadow in the static.A shift in the air.A ghost haunting the edges of every room.And Luca? He’d started responding. Not directly. But his nervous habits were telling—checking over his shoulder, watching his phone too long, sleeping with the windows locked.Dante could feel it.The paranoia.The creeping doubt.The pull.The loft was silent except for the soft hum of the surveillance wall. Six monitors glowed in pale blues and greens, tracking patterns, signals, voices. Every angle of Luca’s life mapped, measure

Luca’s POVThe city never sleeps, but it knows when to hold its breath.Tonight, every streetlight felt like an eye trained on me. Every passing car a whisper, every shadow a warning. But I didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch. My hands were steady on the wheel as I pulled up to the private entrance of the Manhattan high-rise registered to KV Holdings.Dante’s hiding place.I’d found it.And now I was here to destroy the quiet he thought would protect him.The doorman stepped forward, but he must’ve recognized the look on my face—because he didn’t speak, just stepped aside like someone obeying an order that hadn’t been spoken yet.Elevator. 57th floor. No hesitation.I kept my hand near my gun the whole way up. Not because I thought he’d kill me.Because I didn’t know what I’d do when I saw him.Ding.The elevator opened into silence. The penthouse stretched wide—dark, sleek, expensive as hell. The air tasted like wine and secrets.I stepped inside.I didn’t have to look far.Dante stood by the