Semua Bab The Mafia Devil's Princess: Bab 91 - Bab 100

“You have all the answers that you need, Kierra Evans.” Kaspian smirked at me.Sebastian was a suspect before your father died.” Sharp, sudden chill ran down my spine. It can't be... As if the world had tilted, the air felt heavier. You can't be serious, right? Disbelief choked my whisper. Sebastian wouldn’t betray me like this.”“I’ve heard you ran back to that scoundrel,” Kaspian chuckled lowly. “What are you going to do now?”I took a slow, trembling step back. My world—already broken and stitched with string—cracked again beneath my feet.“What… what should I do?” I wasn’t asking him anymore. I was asking myself.“Always trusting the wrong people, aren’t you, Kierra? You’re a trouble magnet.”“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I fumed, crossing my arms. I was already struggling, but now a seed of doubt grew like poison ivy in my chest.I needed to know what was behind that picture—the one hidden in Damian’s safe—before it suffocated me.Kaspian leaned forward with a cruel g

Damian and I walked out of the school with Tobias. Selene marched towards her car while pulling her own son and scolding him like a dog. As Sebastian and I were about to load Tobias into the vehicle, suddenly someone spoke from behind.“Kierra.”My spine snapped into a rod when I heard his voice. Sebastian tilted his head, his eyes brimming with warning as Damian walked up to us— to me. I turned my head to him, and I could feel all the anger in my veins throb again. I hate this man! He took everything from me!“Can we talk?”He must have been out of his mind when he asked me to talk with him, but there ain’t no way in hell that Sebastian was going to agree.I turned my head at the male, who slipped his hands into his pockets. Sebastian pulled me behind him, sizing up Damian— but his eyes were locked into mine, ignoring him. “What do you want from her?”“I have nothing to say to you,” Damian replied in a pent-up tone. “But I have a few words for Kierra.”“She won’t tell you anything

After I finished my shift notes and secured my small apartment, possibly for the last time, Sebastian was outside loading the last box into his SUV. Even with new facial bruises, he moved with his usual confidence. My cardigan pockets held my hands as I left. The pavement turned orange in the late afternoon sun. Although the view was stunning, my chest felt constricted. “Seb… do I really have to move?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek. He turned to face me, brushing his hands together after loading the last item. “The closer you are to me, the better,” he said plainly. “I can protect you better if you’re in the villa.” I shifted my weight on my feet, avoiding his eyes. “I know that… but…” “But what?” His voice dropped a little. Concern flickered in his features. “Do you not want to return?” "It's not like that..." I lowered my head, embarrassed, and my voice ceased. “Just that... I feel like I owe you many things. I don’t even pay rent in the villa.” Sebastian wal

The Eastside District hadn’t changed much since I last set foot here. Still the same flickering streetlights, the same cracked sidewalks littered with cigarette butts, the same faint odor of stale beer and rust clinging to the gutters. If anything, it looked more tired now, like the city had stopped pretending it cared.I pulled my hoodie tighter over my head and glanced at the small piece of paper in my hand. Unit 7-B, Building 3, Rosewell Apartments. It was scribbled in my own handwriting—what little information I had managed to track down from Tomas’s last known location. No updated records, no phone numbers, no neighbors who remembered him clearly. He had vanished like a ghost three years ago.I reached the corner of 8th and Amber. The Rosewell complex stood across the street like a forgotten relic—peeling paint, rusted gates, and a “For Lease” sign hanging by a single nail, swinging with the occasional gust of wind. It used to be the kind of place students and fresh graduates wen

The city always felt different at night. I wasn’t sure why I went out. Maybe I just needed space, from the walls of Novair Manor, from the names piling up in my files, from the weight of every decision we had to make. Or maybe I just needed to remember what grief looked like from the outside. I turned down a narrower alley off Amber Street, one I remembered from my student days, a shortcut between the hospital and the subway line. I hadn’t walked it in years. But tonight, someone else had. A small figure was curled near the corner under an old tarp, hunched beside an empty food box and a ratty backpack. I slowed.The kid looked about ten or eleven years old from where I was standing. I have scaly knees, thin arms, and a coat that is two sizes too big. And then he turned. My breath caught. Daryl. That unruly dark hair. That bruised cheek. The guarded eyes. The boy wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat and then stood up, as if he could feel someone behind him. I stood still