Semua Bab Bride of the Mafia cripple : Bab 21 - Bab 30

A man becomes terrifying not when he bleeds, but when he pretends he never can.The storm that began with Cassian’s betrayal hadn’t ended.It had simply grown quiet. Deceptively so.Leora stirred awake to the sharp, jarring sound of glass shattering.Her breath caught. Her pulse surged violently against her ribs.For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it—just a remnant of some nightmare clinging to her like sweat. But the silence that followed was unnatural. No footsteps in the hall. No guards patrolling outside her door. No murmured voices.Only the wind groaning softly beyond the windows, and the low, uneasy creaks of the mansion’s bones shifting under tension.Something was wrong.Leora threw off the covers and slipped out of bed. Her bare feet kissed the cold floor as she reached beneath her pillow for the small dagger Rosetta had pressed into her hand weeks ago."Just in case," Rosetta had whispered. “In this house, you never know when the wolves will circle close.”Le

“To wound a man, strike his flesh. To break him, strike what he protects.”The morning crept in like a ghost, pale and reluctant. Winter had smothered the world in silence, turning the grounds of Allerick’s estate into a monochrome graveyard of snow and stillness. The trees stood like frozen sentinels, their branches burdened by frost, and the sky above was a flat canvas of gray, as though the sun had forgotten how to shine.Inside the sunroom, Leora sat curled in a high-backed chair, a porcelain cup cradled between her hands. The steam from her coffee twisted upward like a spirit fleeing its body. Her fingers were numb despite the fire crackling in the hearth nearby. The silence was heavy, but not peaceful—it was the kind that warned of something waiting just beyond the veil.Then came the knock.A sharp, deliberate rap against the heavy oak doors—too firm to be casual, too calm to be panicked. Yet somehow, it was worse than either.Leora’s spine straightened as if struck. Her hand f

The conference room exhaled silence and smoke.Shadows clung to the corners like specters. A single chandelier glowed above, dripping dim, golden light across the long mahogany table. The air was thick—cigars and leather, power and peril. The scent alone could choke a man if he wasn’t used to it.Twelve men sat around the table, their suits crisp, eyes sharper than their blades. But every gaze, every nervous twitch and cleared throat, was focused on one man.Don Allerick Moretti.He didn’t sit—he ruled.Even in his tailored black three-piece and with his cane leaning beside his chair, he was the storm everyone tried not to flinch beneath. Scarred knuckles tapped once, twice, against polished wood. That was all it took to command silence.No one breathed until he gave them permission.Behind him, nearly swallowed by shadows, stood Leora.She shouldn’t have been there. He told her not to come. Warned her that this side of him wasn’t meant for her eyes. But she'd come anyway—uninvited, u

The Gattuso name was back on everyone’s tongue—like venom spreading through the bloodstream of the underworld.Three days had passed since Leora stepped into the war room and offered her allegiance—not as a pawn, but as a player. She had crossed a threshold. There was no going back.Since then, the Voss mansion had transformed. The air was heavier, tighter, as though the house itself was holding its breath. The perimeter swarmed with twice as many guards, rifles slung low, eyes scanning every shadow. Inside, the corridors echoed with urgent footsteps and low, murmured conversations. Phones buzzed with encrypted calls. Sealed folders changed hands behind closed doors. The war wasn’t just brewing—it was already here.Leora had shed her silks and lace like old skin. Now she dressed in crisp, high-collared blouses and tailored black slacks. Her hair, once left flowing and soft, was now tied back in a sleek bun. Her heels clicked down halls she used to avoid, the sound sharp as a gavel. No

Viviana’s smile was the kind that didn’t warm a room. It was polished, poised, but hollow—like a blade wrapped in silk.“Miss me, cousin?” she asked, stepping into the heart of Voss territory like she’d never vanished. Like she hadn’t lit a match and walked away as the house burned.The air shifted.Allerick stood at the top of the grand staircase, the dim chandelier casting a golden halo over his dark frame. He looked down at her with the grim stillness of a man not surprised by betrayal—just weary of it. Behind him, Leora emerged from the shadows, her posture upright, eyes sharp. She wasn’t a bystander anymore.“I should’ve buried you the first time,” Allerick said. His voice was cold, almost bored. But underneath, there was steel. The kind of steel that had once made kingdoms bow.Viviana spread her arms like a performer taking the stage. “And miss the pleasure of this reunion?”She stepped further into the marble-floored foyer, her heels clicking like a clock ticking down.“Beside