Todos os capítulos de Love Among Thorns : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

(Rafael’s POV)The safehouse was too quiet.The kind of quiet that prickled at my instincts, warning me something was wrong.Dominic’s phone buzzed once. He glanced at it, then cursed under his breath.“They found her,” he muttered. “Someone tipped the Blakes.”My blood ran cold.“How long?” I asked.“Not long. They’re moving. Probably tonight.”I pushed off the wall, already reaching for my jacket. I didn’t even have to think.I knew exactly what needed to be done.This wasn’t negotiation.This wasn’t warning.This was war.(Amara’s POV)I knew something was wrong the second Rafael came back inside.The housekeeper, Mrs. Holloway, had just poured me a cup of tea when Rafael appeared — coat still on, his expression like carved stone.He crossed the room in four strides and crouched down in front of me, meeting my wide, startled eyes.“Listen to me, piccola,” he said, voice low but vibrating with urgency. “You stay here. Mrs. Holloway will lock the doors. Dominic’s outside.”“What’s ha

(Amara’s POV)The scent of something warm and sweet pulled me from sleep.For a moment, I forgot where I was — blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling, tangled in a too-soft blanket, feeling…Safe.Then the memories rushed back Rafael’s arms around me, his vow, the quiet way he let me choose to trust him.I sat up, my heart thudding nervously.The safehouse was still and quiet.Except for the faint clatter of dishes somewhere beyond the bedroom door.Cautiously, I padded out into the main room.And there he was.Rafael Moretti, the man every newspaper called a monster, standing awkwardly at the tiny kitchen counter… burning toast.I stared, stunned.He looked up, caught me watching — and for once, his cold, perfect mask cracked.“I, uh,” he said gruffly, holding up a plate like it was a peace offering. “I’m not exactly a chef.”The toast was black on one side and barely warm on the other.The eggs looked… confused about their existence.But next to the plate was a small bowl of strawber

(Amara’s POV)The morning sunlight spilled gently across the floor, touching everything with a soft, golden warmth.Amara stirred against the pillow, blinking slowly, her body sore in places she didn’t understand — not from pain, but from feeling.For the first time in forever, she hadn’t woken up with fear curling inside her chest like smoke.Instead, there was a different kind of ache now.A longing.Her fingers brushed the edge of Rafael’s jacket still folded neatly over the chair across the room.She smiled, small and secret.He didn’t stay.A part of her had expected him to — hovering protectively, overbearing even.But Rafael hadn’t.He’d given her space.He’d given her choice.The realization made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.Amara dressed quickly, pulling on a soft sweater and jeans Mrs. Holloway had left out for her.She padded barefoot down the hallway, the house quiet at this hour, the heavy scent of coffee brewing somewhere below.W

(Amara’s POV)The house had changed.Not in a way you could easily see — but Amara felt it.She woke the next morning to find fresh locks installed on the back doors.New cameras glinting under the eaves.More shadows at the tree line than there had been yesterday.At first, she thought she was imagining it.Maybe it was just Rafael being… cautious. Protective.But later that night — when the stars were sharp and brittle in the sky — she crept downstairs for a glass of water… and found Rafael in the front hallway, speaking in a voice she had never heard before.Low. Dangerous.Deadly calm.“You rotate shifts every six hours,” he was saying to a man she didn’t recognize. “Nobody gets near this property unless they’re on my list. I want eyes on every angle. No mistakes.”The man — burly, grim, armed — just nodded sharply and slipped into the night like a ghost.Amara stood frozen in the shadow of the stairwell, heart pounding.She didn’t want to believe it.But she knew.Something was c

(Amara’s POV)Amara woke to a strange sensation — not fear exactly, but… weight.Something in the air had shifted.It was in the way Mrs. Holloway checked the locks twice before stepping outside to water the plants.It was in the quiet glances the guards exchanged when they thought she wasn’t looking.It was in the way the house seemed to breathe differently, as if bracing for a storm.Amara hugged her sweater closer around her body, padding barefoot into the kitchen.Mrs. Holloway was already there, humming under her breath as she kneaded dough, flour dusting her hands and apron.The housekeeper looked up and smiled — a little too brightly.“Morning, darling. You hungry?”Amara nodded, chewing her lip. “Mrs. Holloway… is something wrong?”For a long moment, the woman didn’t answer. She only shaped the dough carefully, methodically, before wiping her hands clean and coming to sit across from Amara at the small table.She took Amara’s hand — warm, steady, reassuring.“Nothing’s wrong,”