All Chapters of Entangled with the Mafia Don: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Davina's POV:The blue Fiat screeched to a stop a block from my mother’s house. My lungs burned as I sprinted down the familiar street, Ezra’s stolen white shirt billowing around me. The heavy, cold reality of the gun was pressed against my lower back, a desperate, terrifying weight.I slammed the front door open, the wood shuddering on its frame. "Lexi!" I screamed, my eyes darting wildly. The house was quiet, too quiet. "Lexi, where are you?"I found her in the living room, huddled on the sofa. But she wasn't alone. Dexter stood over her, his eyes manic, dangerous. Lexi was rocking slightly, tears silently tracking through the dust and terror on her face, clutching her arm. The dark, ugly marks on her skin weren't bruises from a simple push—they were vicious bite marks, deep, violating symbols of his hatred."Dexter, you sick bastard!" The words were a raw, protective roar.He snapped his head up. Before he could fully process my presence, I had yanked the gun from my waistband. The

Davina's POV:I stood in the sterile hallway. My body throbbed with the ghost of Dexter's brutal assault and the deep fatigue of emotional trauma. My mind, however, was in a painful state of suspension—a fragile, cold shell. I had commanded the protection away, and now the man who owned my life was pacing just out of sight, honoring my desperate rejection.A discreet cough broke my trance. Andrea, a pillar of cold, intelligent efficiency, approached me."Ms. Davina," he said, his voice a low, soothing counterpoint to my inner turmoil. "Ezra instructed me to make sure you have everything you need.""He's supposed to protect me," I stated, the words flat and sharp, echoing my core resentment. "That's what this arrangement is, isn't it, Andrea? He protects my family, and I pay the price."Andrea nodded gravely, his dark eyes meeting mine without flinching. "And he did, Ms. Davina. What happened this morning was a failure of intelligence, not commitment. He prevented the worst outcome, sa

Davina's POVA throbbing, agonizing headache was the first sensation—a dull, relentless drumbeat echoing the last violent moments before the needle found its mark. My mouth was bone dry and tasted of copper, and my limbs felt like useless anchors weighted with lead, resisting any command to move. I fought the oppressive darkness, forcing my eyes open into a gritty, painful squint.I was lying on a coarse, cold cement floor. The low, guttural roar of a distant generator provided the only sound besides my own shallow, rapid breathing. The air was thick, heavy with the smell of damp earth, rust, and something acrid, metallic—like dried blood or spoiled meat. Above me, a single, caged bulb cast a weak, sickly yellow light, revealing the grim reality of a basement. Concrete walls, streaked with dark grime and patched with sickly green mold, surrounded me. It was clearly an abandoned industrial cellar, cold enough to make my already bruised skin prickle.I tried to sit up, but my muscles se

Ezra's POVI was back at the safe house, the air vibrating with the frantic energy of a war room. Every screen was a blur of traffic cams and facial recognition hits that led nowhere. I was a hair-trigger away from executing the tech lead when my encrypted phone shrieked on the glass table.The caller ID was a string of scrambled zeros. I snatched it up."Speak," I commanded, my voice a low, jagged rasp."Ezra. It’s Victor." The informant’s voice was thin, shaking with the weight of the news. "I found the transport. But you aren't going to a warehouse, and you aren't going to a Sokolov estate.""Where is she, Victor? Give me a location before I come over there and pull it out of your throat.""The Midnight Exchange," Victor whispered, the name carrying a sickening weight. "Tatiana didn't just take her for leverage. She’s liquidating the 'Volkov assets.' They’ve listed Davina as the 'Special Lot' for tonight’s auction. High-value sex slave, Ezra. They're selling her to the highest bidd

Davina’s POVJust as the auctioneer’s gavel began its final, soul-crushing descent, a heavy, metallic thud shook the entire hold. The massive steel doors at the rear of the theater swung open, admitting a violent draft of freezing sea air and a man who radiated a darkness far more potent than the leering predators in the audience.It wasn't the cold that made my blood turn to ice. It was the man who stepped out of the shadows.Ivan Sokolov.The world tilted, and for a second, I wasn't on a ship; I was back in the neon-lit haze of The Devil’s Club. I could almost taste the bitter tang of the drug he’d slipped into my drink. I could feel the ghostly weight of his hands on me, the way he had looked at me with that same sick, predatory hunger before Ezra had broken through the door and nearly beaten him to death.My breath hitched in a ragged, agonizing sob. I recognized the way he carried himself—the arrogant, broad-shouldered swagger of a man who thought the world was his for the taking