All Chapters of Twisted Obsession: The Mafia's obsession.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 19

Adrian“Where’s Felipe?” I asked calmly, but it sliced through the haze as I entered the underground club.The ceiling strobes pulsed like a party for 100 was going on, casting shadows that crawled over the cracked walls. My eyes twitched from the distraction.“Kill the lights,” I ordered flatly.The flickering died, and the room dimmed into something tolerable—just the steady thump of bass in the background.Felipe appeared out of nowhere.I glanced around, trying to clock where he came from, but the bastard was slippery—like he stepped out of the wall itself.“Natasha said you were here,” I said, reaching for a chair. One of the guards moved to help.I shot him a look. He froze. I sat on my own and flicked my fingers once. Felipe and the others took their seats.“Yeah,” Felipe said, clearing his throat. “I’m here. Just... wondering how Natasha knew.”Too fast. Too defensive. Like he was already bracing for an accusation that is yet to come.I leaned back, studied his face, his eyes

Adrian“Why the hell do you keep showing up?” she snapped as I turned the corner to her place. “You’ve got a girlfriend—what the fuck are you looking for? Not that I expect loyalty from someone like you.”I let out a low chuckle, the sound slipping past my lips before I could stop it. She was chaos wrapped in fire, always talking, always loud—but somehow, she made every space feel like it had a pulse.“You’re right,” I said easily.She spun toward the window, a hiss escaping her like she was holding back steam. “Don’t start with that. I see the trick—you agree with everything, and suddenly I’m the one yelling at myself like a lunatic.”“You mad?”“I can’t even be mad. You could literally kill me. My whole situation is messed up.” Her voice cracked just a little at the edges, more panic than anger now.“You’re being dramatic.”“Oh, am I? Says the man whose life didn’t get flipped upside down just because I touched the hand of some charming psycho at a club.”“You’ve got a point,” I said

Adrian“Let’s just conclude something right now,” I murmured, my voice low against her temple, my arms wrapped around her. “You don’t run anymore, firecracker. All you do is give me a longer route to travel. And I’m a busy man.”She shifted slightly in my lap, not trying to escape—just settling in like her body didn’t believe her mouth anymore. Her lashes fluttered, casting shadows on her cheeks. She wasn’t asleep yet, but she was close. “If you're not the reason I’m running…” Her voice was soft. “Then the others are. They shot at me. Your girlfriends.”I smiled, “They won’t bother you again,” I said, matter-of-fact. “The ones who shot at you? Probably arrived in hell. Natasha and Isla…” I paused. “I’ll handle them.”The truth was, I didn’t know how yet. But whatever it was going to be, it would be permanent. I was already carving space in the dark for it.She lifted her head, her brows pulling together in suspicion. She looked at me like I’d just announced a funeral . “You’re not ki

AdrianThe tires screeched like they were begging for mercy as Mug slammed the brakes. I didn’t wait for the car to settle—I pushed the door open and stalked toward the house. From the outside, it looked like nothing. Just another building in the suburbs. Inside? It was a different fucking world.This was where the scalpel meet the skin off record. Where real surgeons worked without politics breathing down their necks. Most people would call it an illegal surgical ring. I call it controlled rebellion. Every doctor here was licensed, trained, once elite—until the system spat them out for thinking too big, moving too fast, or fucking the wrong person. Literally, in one case.I passed Dr. Scott in the hallway—he was scheduled for a high-risk brain op today. Dude used to be a top-tier neurosurgeon until he banged his hospital director’s wife and got annihilated. Lost his license, reputation, and any right to wear a white coat in public. He wears it here. With hands steadier than half his