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Todos os capítulos de The Captured Mafia Bride: Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

274 Capítulos

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX

Lyla’s POVThe sheets on the spare bed were crisp and smelled faintly of bleach, but they felt rough against my skin. I lay back slowly, every movement making my muscles ache like they were tearing from the inside out. The ceiling above me was a muted cream color with faint water stains. I focused on those stains to keep from looking at Emilio’s gun or the pity in their eyes.I hated this. Being on display. Being so weak. Being touched.Mrs. Wilkens moved closer. Her hands were small but steady, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun. She didn’t look at my face as she unpacked her supplies, which was something I appreciated. Everyone else either stared at me like I was a ghost or avoided looking at me at all.“We’ll start with a blood sample,” she said, her voice low and careful. She was trying to sound neutral, but I could hear the tremor she was suppressing.I stared at the ceiling, my jaw tightening. “Do whatever you have to,” I muttered. My voice sounded thin, like it belonged to so

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

The IV line hummed softly beside me, the cool drip working its way into my veins. Mrs. Wilkens was writing on her clipboard again, her pen scratching quietly against the paper. I watched her from the corner of my eye, my body heavy against the mattress, too weak to sit up.Emilio hadn’t moved from the bed. He sat at my side, his thigh pressed against the edge of the mattress, one hand wrapped firmly around mine. He hadn’t let go since the moment the fluids started. His grip was steady, grounding, but his jaw was tight, his eyes dark and stormy as they flicked between me and the doctor. His wounds were covered in bandages, and I looked at them, more marks to scar his beautiful skin. he wore them like a prize, but I wondered, if sometimes he wished he hadn't known such misery.I looked away when my eyes met his. “Mrs. Wilkens,” he said suddenly, his voice low but sharp. “Confide in me. What did they do to her?”The doctor paused, her pen hovering over the paper. Slowly, she raised her

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY -EIGHT

Lyla’s POV The first thing I felt was the ache. Not sharp, not unbearable, but deep, lodged in my bones like a reminder of everything I had survived. My eyelids fluttered open, assaulted by a pale wash of morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment I lay still, disoriented, the ceiling above me unfamiliar yet hauntingly safe. The guest room smelled faintly of antiseptic, proof that Mrs. Wilkens had left her touch on the place before retreating for the night. The IV drip was gone, replaced by a dull soreness in my arm where the needle had been. My body felt heavy, weak, but no longer on the brink of collapse. The bigger ache wasn’t physical. It was the emptiness at my side. Emilio had been there when I fell asleep — his shoulder had been the last thing I clung to before darkness pulled me under. Now the chair was empty, the blanket folded neatly where he must have draped it over me during the night. My throat tightened, though I couldn’t explain why. Maybe because hi

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE

Lyla’s POVThe night pressed against the windows like a living thing, the shadows deep and heavy. I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting the hem of my shirt between my fingers, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the quiet hum of the house.They thought Christian Donovan was dead. They thought Emilio’s bullet had ended him. But I knew the truth. I had felt his hands. Heard his voice. Smelled the blood.When the door opened, it was Xiomar again, followed closely by Emilio. Neither of them said anything at first. They just looked at me, their eyes full of questions I had refused to answer for days.“You wanted to talk,” Xiomar said finally, his tone cautious.Emilio’s arms were crossed, but his gaze burned. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”I stared down at my trembling hands. My throat felt raw, like speaking might tear me open. But if I didn’t tell them now, the three of them would walk blind into their own deaths.“The crow,” I whispered. “The man who took me. It wasn’t

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY

Lyla’s POVThe room was dark, heavy with silence, but my mind refused to stay there. It dragged me back — back to the tiled walls, the sting of cold water, the echo of laughter that wasn’t joy but cruelty.I hadn’t even been able to scream properly that day. My voice had caught, choking against the steam as rough hands shoved me down. The showerhead had hissed above, spraying water that mingled with the blood running down my thighs. I remembered the taste of the tile when my face hit it. The press of weight, one after another, while I curled inward and prayed I’d stop breathing.It wasn’t the pain that haunted me the most. It was the sound. Their boots scraping against wet tile. Their voices, jeering, as though I weren’t even human.I pressed my face into Emilio’s shirt now, burying myself in the faint, smoky scent of him, as though it could scrub that memory from me. But it clung, sharp and sour, playing over and over every time I blinked.A knock at the door pulled me back. Too soft

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

Achilles’ POVI hadn’t gone near her.Not in days. Not since the morning she’d screamed like a cornered animal in that small, suffocating room. The sound had burrowed into my chest and refused to leave, twisting my stomach into knots I hadn’t thought possible. My brothers tried, Xiomar with his calm words, Emilio with his fists and fury, but I had… I had stayed away. Because I couldn’t face her. Because every time I thought of the rage in her eyes and the raw, broken sound of her voice, my heart fractured all over again.I hadn’t known what to do. I had stared at the doorway of her room for hours, sometimes minutes, sometimes whole nights, until I’d convinced myself that staying away was better than being in the room when she might scream at me again, or worse cry at me, like she had done last night when Mrs. Wilkens had delivered the test results.Her scream had echoed through the halls like a knife slicing through metal. I had gripped the frame of the doorway, knuckles white, my tee

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO

Lyla's POVThe room was quiet again, empty except for me and the shadows clinging to the corners. For the first time in hours, maybe days, the house felt almost normal — almost. But I couldn’t leave my corner. Not yet. The shirt Emilio had given me was still over my shoulders, soft against my skin, the faint scent of him grounding me to reality. Every time I thought about shedding it, I panicked. I needed him close.Then there was the knock. Light, but deliberate. Hesitant, almost polite. My stomach dropped. I knew who it would be.“Lyla?” a deep voice called softly.My heart skipped. “Achilles?”The door opened slowly, and there he stood, tall, solid, the weight of the world evident in his posture. His dark eyes flicked to mine, cautious, like he wasn’t sure he should stay, and yet he lingered at the threshold.“They… we’re checking the gym,” he said carefully. “And the tattoo shop. Emilio, Xiomar, and I. They want to see what’s left.”I nodded, unable to speak. My throat felt raw,

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE

THIRD PERSON POVAries emerged from Achilles' room, Lyla's shirt clutched in her hands, and froze upon seeing Lyla's distraught state. Lyla was hyperventilating, her eyes wide with fear, and Aries' heart skipped a beat as she took in the scene before her. But what truly sent a chill down her spine was the two men standing behind Lyla, their faces expressionless.Aries' eyes darted back to Lyla, concern etched on her face. "Lyla, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.But before Lyla could respond, Achilles appeared behind Aries, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the scene before him. "Aries, what are you doing in my room?" he asked, his tone even.Aries swallowed hard, still trying to process the fear that gripped her. She held out Lyla's shirt, her hand trembling slightly. "Lyla asked me to get her something from your room," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "She said she needed something of yours, and in return, she'd...she'd let you bathe

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR

Xiomar’s POVThe street was littered with debris, smoke curling lazily into the morning sky, remnants of fire still smoldering in the corners of what used to be my gym. My chest tightened before I even reached the door. The air smelled of ash, burnt wood, and charred leather, a familiar scent once comforting, now grotesque in its destruction.I stepped forward, each movement deliberate, almost ritualistic, as though approaching a grave. My eyes took in the damage: the front glass window shattered, metal frames twisted, weights scattered and singed. The floor was slick with water from the fire hoses, mixed with the remnants of charred rubber mats and papers. Every photograph, every certificate on the wall, every piece of equipment — all either destroyed or ruined.“This… this can’t be happening,” I whispered, my voice hollow.Emilio placed a hand on my shoulder, firm but gentle. “I know,” he said, voice low, empathetic. “I know, Xiomar. I’ve never seen anything like this either.”Achil

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE

I shouldn’t have let Emilio and Achilles leave. Space was supposed to calm me, but it didn’t. It only gave my chest room to ache harder. I couldn’t sit in the safe house knowing Sienna was outside, her hands trembling in mine, her eyes still red from last night. She had lost her sister. Her home had been burned to the ground. And I could feel the anger coiling in me, tight and relentless.“Come on,” I told her, voice low and rough. “We’re going to your place. Just to check, make sure nothing else is left behind. Then we’re leaving.”Her small hand clutched mine, fingers cold and unsteady. “Xiomar… my house…” Her voice cracked, breaking in the middle like a snapped rope.“I know,” I said. “But we’re not staying there. You hear me? Not tonight. Not ever.”She nodded. I didn’t have time for more words. She couldn’t afford panic; I couldn’t afford hesitation.The closer we got, the more obvious the damage became. Smoke lingered in the air, thin ribbons rising from scorched concrete and de

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