Semua Bab Bound By The Don's Bloody Bargain : Bab 31 - Bab 40

Olivia – POV "You hit my brother," I breathed, my voice cracking with disbelief, grief clinging to every syllable. The taste of blood still lingered on Jude’s lips. I had dropped to my knees the moment I saw him dragged in—his face bruised, one eye swollen nearly shut, arms trembling as if the air itself weighed too much. When the guards released him onto the marble floor like he was some trash to be discarded, I flew to him. My arms had barely locked around his battered frame before Luciano’s voice sliced through the silence. "You don't have a say, Olivia. You're my property." That was it. Something in me snapped—loud and ugly. I rose to my feet slowly, the sob I’d been choking back morphing into something fiercer. Hot. Furious. It clawed up my throat like fire. "You hit my brother!" I screamed, spinning toward him. My chest heaved, fists clenched at my sides. "After everything I've done for you? After I stayed when I wanted to run? After I gave up my f*cking name, my life—"

Olivia pov They dragged me through the hallway like I was some damn criminal. Marco didn’t touch me, but two of Luciano’s men flanked me like I was going to sprint or bite someone. Not that it was a bad idea. My lip still trembled with the weight of everything I’d said. Jude. That slap. The way Luciano’s face went cold like he was seconds away from snapping my neck—or worse, snapping his own self-control. And now? Now he wanted me brought to him. The double doors to the library swung open, and I was pushed inside like a ragdoll. He was standing there, back turned, facing the window. Shadows from the broken lamp cut across the room like a crime scene. Glass littered the floor. Books torn and bleeding. A chair lay on its side like it tried to escape but never made it. I stood still. I wasn’t about to play scared. “You sent for me?” I asked, voice sharp. He didn’t turn. “You never shut up, do you?” I crossed my arms. “You never stop destroying things, do you?” He finally tur

Olivia POV I barely got two steps away from Jude’s room before Marco fell into step beside me. Silent. Heavy-footed. Too composed. I didn’t like it. He kept glancing at me like he was waiting for something to crack. Maybe my voice. Maybe my restraint. Hell, maybe my whole damn sanity. “What?” I snapped, refusing to look at him. He didn’t flinch. “You didn’t ask how I knew he was in the hospital.” I stopped cold. My spine stiffened like it’d been iced over. Slowly, I turned to face him. “You’re right,” I said evenly. “I didn’t.” He smiled—thin, humorless. “I’m just saying. Most people would’ve questioned how I got there before you did.” “You’re not most people,” I said tightly. “True.” He leaned against the whitewashed hospital wall like he had all the time in the world. Like he owned it. Like he hadn’t just dropped a loaded gun between us and dared me to touch it. “How did you know?” I asked, each word sharp and deliberate. His smile didn’t falter. “Luciano likes to keep

Luciano POV I hate you, Marco. More than I’ve hated anyone in years. More than the men who tried to take my empire piece by piece. More than the snakes who whispered poison into my ear. Because you’re supposed to be loyal. Not… this. Not the way you look at Olivia like she’s a wound you’re itching to rip open, not the way you hide half-truths behind your cold eyes. You’re like a storm brewing on the horizon, and I’m the fool standing out here with no umbrella. The low hum of the estate filled the silence as I sat behind my desk, swirling the last of the amber liquid in my glass. It wasn’t whiskey—it was too refined for that—but the burn was close enough. Marco entered without knocking, as if the room was his, which lately, it felt like it might as well be. His eyes locked onto mine, sharp, unreadable. “Luciano.” His voice was flat but held an edge. I didn’t bother looking up. “What is it?” He stepped forward, crossing his arms. “She’s playing a dangerous game.” I scoffed,

Olivia – POV “Luciano!” I screamed again, my voice hoarse, my knees scraping against the cold, blood-slick pavement as I stumbled beside him. The bastard who stabbed him had already run off, disappearing into the night like a coward, leaving me alone with a man who’d just saved my life and looked like he was slipping away with every breath. Luciano lay there, blood seeping fast from his side, coughing, but somehow still smirking like this was a damn joke. “I’m not going to die, silly,” he rasped, his voice disturbingly casual as blood pooled beneath him. “What?” I choked, my throat closing around the sob I’d been holding back. “Luciano, this isn’t a twisted game of pretend. You don’t get to act like you're invincible. You were stabbed. Stabbed. Do you understand what that means? You don’t control life. Life doesn’t care if you’re Luciano f*cking Romano or Mickey Mouse.” He rolled his eyes. Rolled his damn eyes. “Stop crying,” he muttered, grimacing in pain as he tried to sit up,