All Chapters of The Mafia’s Runaway Bride: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

SALVATORE’S POVShe trusted me.That thought had settled into my chest like a stone, heavy and immovable, the whole drive out of the city. The hum of the car was low and steady, but inside my mind, everything was chaos. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Sofia’s tiny head had fallen against the car seat, her little fists tucked beneath her chin. Sofia was asleep. Sofia had never liked me and I was doing this to her. To her mother.Rosa had looked at me this morning like I was her anchor. Her last hope. That look would stay with me until I died. The sky above stretched wide and gray, thick clouds smothering the sun. The roads grew emptier the farther I got from the city. I could almost hear the voice of Don Moretti in my head, that cold growl of his the first day I walked into his territory: “May I cut in?” But it hadn’t been a request. I’d smiled then. Tried to be charming. At the time, it had all been part of the gam

ARMANO’S POVThere are moments in a man’s life that redefine him. The night my family was slaughtered was one of them. The night my father was burnt alive and my brothers shot.I still remember the heat. The smell of smoke. I was sixteen. Young, angry, stupid. I wanted to fight. Wanted to go back and die with them. But I ran, because my older brother had thrown me into the swamp behind our room and ordered me to run.I ran through fire and bullets and the screams of my bloodline dying around me. The past never left me. It lived beneath my skin, crawled like fire in my blood, whispered like ghosts in the dark. I could still smell the smoke from that night, the iron tang of blood, the ash in the air, the screeching of tires as men screamed and died around me. The massacre of my family hadn’t been swift. It had been a calculated execution.Enzo Moretti. Mateo Moretti. Their soldiers. They came like shadows and

VICENZO’S POVThe road to the country house twisted like a scar through the hills, every turn cloaked in fog and shadows. Gianni drove fast, the tires skidding slightly on wet gravel, his jaw clenched tight. In the backseat, I loaded my gun in silence. Each metallic click felt like a heartbeat counting down to something final. I hoped I was making the right decision. If not, I would cost my father….cost Mateo everything. “They’ll be expecting us,” Gianni muttered, his voice breaking through my reverie. “I’m counting on it,” I said, my voice clipped. The headlights cut through the mist, slicing into the trees ahead. The countryside was quiet—too quiet. Not even crickets chirped. It was the kind of silence you only heard before something went very wrong.We came to a stop just beyond the clearing. The house stood like a ghost in the woods, its windows blacked out, smoke trailing lazily from the chimney. It w

VICENZO’S POVMateo couldn’t be gone. Not after that horrifying night when he took a bullet for me in the shootout with Dante. Not after the fear I’d survived; the fear of losing him. It couldn’t be. Not after everything we’d been through together.I knelt beside his body, my hands slick with his blood, unable to breathe. His eyes were still open, fixed, and distant. There was something unnatural about the way his body had crumpled, as if the weight of the world had finally broken him in two. I pressed a hand against his chest. No rise. No beat. Gone.My throat closed. “No…no, no, no,” I whispered, my voice breaking apart. “You goddamn fool. Always fucking trying to save me!” He’d done it to save me. To save Sofia. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve been the one to pull the trigger. But instead, it was Mateo always the first to dive into the fire without checking how high the flames were.He’d shot Armano

ROSA’S POVThere were no high-rises here. No mirrored buildings that scraped the sky and cast long, cold shadows over the streets. No men in pressed suits with blood beneath their fingernails, no dark cars crawling behind you, pretending not to.Here, the air moved differently, clean, and unhurried. It smelled of sea salt and crushed thyme, of sun-warmed earth instead of gasoline and gunmetal.In the city, everything had felt too close. The walls, the whispers, the weight of loyalty and blood. Even the sky there had looked caged, cut into strips by towers that loomed like sentries. You couldn’t breathe without someone noticing. You couldn’t speak without wondering who might be listening. You couldn’t see the stars because the city itself glittered. But here…The stars always shone and it was like an ocean: vast and endless. Here, the roads were dirt and the windows stayed open. The hills rolled gently, as if the land had nothing left to prove. Some days, the only sound was birdsong a