All Chapters of My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me?: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

LucaI wasn’t used to following.I was born to lead—trained to command, to devour threats before they had the chance to speak. But when Serena laid her hands on that table like she owned it, like she owned us, something inside me stilled.Not because I was afraid of her power.Because I wanted it.Because she was the only thing I couldn’t control—and that made me want to kneel or conquer, or maybe both.“We strike tonight,” she said.Matteo nodded once. Nico just licked his bottom lip, like he could already taste the chaos. I stared at her—this woman I’d held, fucked, bled for—and wondered if I’d ever truly known her at all.Maybe none of us had.“What’s the target?” I asked.She turned to me slowly. “The compound. West side. Dante’s private vault.”I blinked. “That’s suicide.”“It’s leverage,” she corrected. “He’s moving money and magic through that vault—illegal tech, hybrid contracts, weapons from the underground labs.”“You want to steal from him?” Matteo’s voice was low, dangerou

SerenaThe night air didn’t cool the fire inside me.If anything, it fed it.Every breath was smoke, every heartbeat a warning.They’d been watching her.My mother.The woman who had once kissed my forehead like she was afraid to break me, then walked away like I’d already been broken.I wasn’t running, not really.But the rage had nowhere to go, so my legs moved. Past the gates. Past the guards who knew better than to speak. Past the ache in my knees and the pounding behind my eyes.She was alive.She was being followed.And none of us had known.Not until tonight.Not until I pulled a file from Dante’s vault and watched my world tilt sideways with a soft flutter of paper.I had only one thought now, and it echoed with every step:This is war.Footsteps approached behind me, steady and deliberate.Matteo.Of course.He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He matched my pace like we were born to walk into hell together."You ever feel like the walls are closing in and it’s not fear that m

Serena The world narrowed to a single point: the screen that no longer glowed. Static still buzzed faintly in my ears, like ghost breath, but the room was silent. Too silent. Not even the dead man moaned. I stared at Giovanni Morani’s lifeless face, my pulse a drumbeat beneath my skin. He had been someone’s son. Maybe someone’s father. And now, just a message. A warning. A trap. Matteo was already in motion. "Luca, get the fake signature burning now. Nico, I want eyes on the nearest Moretti drone routes. We leak just enough heat to make it real, but not enough to tip our hand." "On it," they said in unison. I stayed still. Because movement meant commitment. Movement meant war. "You okay?" Luca asked quietly, brushing a curl from my face. His fingertips were gentle. His eyes weren’t. Not tonight. I couldn’t lie to him. Not here. "No." A pause. "Good. That means you still feel. That means he hasn’t won." I blinked. Swallowed hard. I didn’t want to feel. Not anymore. Not wi

The black Escalade growled beneath us like a coiled beast, tires eating pavement as we sped through the city's underbelly. The scent of gun oil and leather clung to the air like a second skin. I'd traded in silk for something sharper—black pants tight as sin, a holster on my thigh, matte lipstick blood-dark.Tonight, I didn't need to play the pretty pawn.Tonight, I was the queen."He's baiting you," Matteo said from the passenger seat, voice low and edged with grit. "Dante wants you out in the open.""Good," I murmured, my eyes on the rain-slicked streets ahead. "Let him see what happens when you corner a queen."From the back seat, Luca let out a grunt. "He doesn't think you've got it in you. Still sees you as the girl behind the bar, not the woman who burned his last safehouse to ash.""I hope he does," I said. "It'll make watching his face crack that much sweeter."Beside Luca, Nico cracked his knuckles and smirked. "He's expecting fear. Let's serve him vengeance on a silver fuckin

Serena:They called it neutral ground, but nothing about the Moretti estate was neutral.Not the limestone lions guarding the wrought-iron gates. Not the manicured roses hiding sniper nests. Not the long table set under chandeliers dripping crystal like icicles over a feast no one came to eat.This wasn't a dinner.It was a firing squad with linen napkins.And I'd RSVP'd with hellfire in my smile.Luca drove. Matteo rode shotgun, cracking his knuckles like a prayer. Nico sat beside me in the backseat, cleaning his gold-plated piece with the same care most men reserved for confessions.We pulled up slowly.Respectful.Let them think we were still playing by old rules.As the doors opened, the air changed—sour with betrayal, sharp with secrets. The Valtieri guards nodded us through, but I saw it in their eyes.Fear.Or maybe awe.Hard to tell the difference when you're wearing blood like perfume.I stepped out last, red silk slipping over my legs like spilled wine. My gun was tucked und