All Chapters of The Mafia Kings Plaything : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Giordano POV At His MansionHe should’ve been the one on the floor.Not Selena.The hallway stank of bleach and blood. Too clean and too filthy at the same time. Giordano stood alone under the chandelier, breathing like he had a goddamn gun pressed to his own ribs. Somewhere outside, the guards whispered. Papi's toys were still in the hallway—one of them crushed under Giordano’s boot hours ago when he’d stormed in like a goddamn animal, because he thought it would stop the shaking.It didn’t.The shaking was inside him.They tried to kill him.No. Not him.Selena took the plate. The poison was his.And now she was barely breathing in the east wing, skin pale, veins dark. He should’ve been the one choking.His palm twitched as he poured another shot of vodka. It slipped down his throat, burning—useless. The fear didn’t leave. It grew teeth."Poison," he muttered. "That fucking poison was for me."He looked down at his hand.Still trembling.He slammed the shot glass against the wall.

Vittorio – POVI fucking hated how I felt.The moment she said it—“I’m going to surrender to Giordano”—something sharp twisted in my chest. Not the usual kind. Not rage. Not pride. Not even control. This was… deeper. Filthy. Dangerous. Real.Fuck.I stood at the window, jaw tight, watching her down below where she’d gone to talk to Malva. Her hips swayed like she didn’t just set fire to my goddamn world. Like she hadn’t just made me feel something I didn’t have the tools to fix.She was everywhere in my head“Fucking hell,” I muttered, pacing.She’d said it like it was nothing. Like walking into Giordano’s claws was just another errand. Like she wasn’t dragging my heart behind her like some glittery fucking leash.I slammed the heel of my palm into the table.Why did I care this much?Katarina was under my skin. Deep. She filled every room even when she wasn’t in it. Even now, I couldn’t stop seeing her lips—swollen from last night. Her thighs marked up. Her scent still on my sheets.

Katarina – POV still at the mansionI closed my eyes.Everything was finally coming together.The sun was a lazy thing that morning.The water shimmered under the sun. Naples heat kissed my bare shoulders. I sat at the edge of the pool, legs dangling, the cool water licking my skin. My bikini stuck to me like a second skin—tight, dark red, the color of old wine and war.Around the mansion, the air was thick with preparation. Footsteps. Voices. Metal clinks. Weapons being cleaned. Routes being drawn.They were ready.But I was the key.Me. The girl Giordano once broke, now the woman planning to kill him.I leaned back on my palms, closed my eyes, and let the sun brand my face. My mom was safe. “Vittorio and Lucas were out securing the poison.His voice still echoed in my head from this morning—growled and low.‘I’m bringing it home, kitten. The thing that ends him.’The one that started it all. If their plan went smooth, they'd come back with a name, a bottle, and the last piece of thi

Selena – POVThe steak bled on the silver plate like it was waiting for my name.“Sit,” Giordano said, like he was asking me to dinner—not death. His voice was calm. Too calm.I was already in the cell, but he wanted me to sit like I was some guest of honor. Sick bastard. The table was small. Silver plate. Fork already laid. Candle burning like this was fucking date night.I didn’t move.He tilted his head. “You want to stand while I describe the different ways I’ve imagined your death?”God.I sat. The candle flickered between us, throwing his face in and out. I could hear the soft drip of water behind the wall and the faint squeak of rats. Giordano didn’t blink. His steak bled into the white plate like a wound.The cell was cold. Wet. The stone beneath me felt like old bones. The iron bars still stank of blood from that chef—his blood.The man slit his own damn throat right in front of Giordano and smiled while doing it.His hand had barely shaken. The knife was small, but the b

Selena – POV“I don’t wanna die.”My voice was small. Pathetic. But it came out anyway, shaking through the duct tape tight across my wrists. The blindfold itched like fire against my eyes. My back was cold against the metal wall of the van. Knees crammed up to my chest.“I’ll disappear. I swear,” I said louder. “You don’t have to take me to him. Just stop the van. Drop me on the side of the road. I’ll run. You’ll never hear from me again.”No answer.The engine hummed. Tires hissed along gravel.I raised my voice, desperate now. “Please! I’m not the one he wants. He’s gonna kill me for nothing—just let me go. Please. You can say I escaped, or I bribed you. Say whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t take me to him.”Laughter. From the front seat.Low. Ugly. Like the kind of laugh someone gives a dying dog.“Shut up,” the driver said. “You talk too much for someone with one foot in the grave.”The one next to me, Slimy, just chuckled. “I give her ten minutes before he snaps her neck.