All Chapters of My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me?: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Serena:The world fractured into flashes. Boots hammering down the pier. Someone was shouting for a medic, but we didn’t have one. The sea was hissing against the pilings like it knew how this ended.Hands kept me anchored—Nico’s on my chest, Matteo’s at my side, Luca’s clamping over the wound at my hip. Their faces were carved from panic and rage and something that might’ve been prayer.I drifted. The alley ceiling dissolved into the night sky, a thousand pinprick stars bleeding through black. The smell of cordite, salt, and iron tangled in my lungs until every breath was a knife.“Stay with us,” Luca barked, voice low but shaking. “Don’t float. Don’t you dare float.”I wanted to say I’m trying. All that came out was a wet gasp.Nico’s thumb found the pulse at my throat, pressing, counting. His mouth moved close to my ear, voice breaking against the edge of command. “Look at me. Don’t look at the sky. Look at me.”I forced my eyes open. His face swam into focus—hair matted, jaw tight

Nico:The room was dim except for the single swinging bulb. It gave the medic’s movements a jerky, surreal rhythm, like a film reel stuttering. He cleaned his instruments with quiet precision, packed them back into the worn leather case, and left without a word. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the silence in with me.I sat there, my body a knot of frayed nerves, my hand still wrapped around hers. She was warm, but not warm enough. Her breathing had steadied, but every rise and fall of her chest felt borrowed, as if she was still deciding whether to come back to me.The walls of the safehouse pressed in close. Outside, the others were moving—boots scuffing, muted voices giving orders, Matteo checking the perimeter, Luca making calls. They were all still in motion. But I was stone.I couldn’t look away from her. Her hair stuck to her forehead, dark with sweat. Her lips were pale, the corners cracked. Even now, with the weight of everything that had happened, she looked like sh

Serena The world dissolved into noise. Gunfire tore through the night, each shot a jolt through my body. Nico’s arms tightened around me as he moved — fast, brutal, efficient — like the chaos outside existed just to test how far he’d go to keep me breathing. The front door exploded inward. He spun, taking the hit of splintered wood on his shoulder, shielding me. The sound was deafening. My ears rang. Someone shouted orders in Italian. Luca fired back, the crack of his rifle carving through the air like thunder. “Go! Go!” Matteo’s voice. Closer now. Nico shifted his grip on me, and for a second I caught the tremor in his hands — not fear. Fury. Cold, murderous fury. The kind I’d seen before. The kind that meant someone was going to die tonight. He burst through the back door, boots hitting wet ground. Rain hit my face in cold stinging drops. The forest loomed dark ahead, shadows moving where men shouldn’t be. He didn’t slow. “Nico—” My voice barely carried over the storm.

Serena:The ocean woke before we did.Its rhythm pulsed beneath the floorboards, slow and endless, a reminder that the world kept moving even when we couldn’t. Gray light filtered through the cracked window, dust drifting lazily in the beam. I lay still, listening to the hush of waves below the cliffs, the faint groan of the cabin settling, and the steady warmth of Nico behind me.For the first time in what felt like years, he wasn’t moving — not planning, not running, not commanding, just breathing.His arm rested heavily around my waist, his breath a slow pattern against the back of my neck. For one fragile second, I let myself pretend. Pretend that the man behind me wasn’t Nico Moretti — ghost, killer, savior. Pretend the night before hadn’t happened. Pretend that the blood drying beneath my nails was someone else’s problem.The tide rolled in, dragging that illusion away.Nico stirred, his hand tightening briefly, instinctively. “You’re awake,” he murmured, voice low, sandpaper ro

SerenaThe mountains were silent, except for the whisper of fog through the trees and the distant, cruel crash of waves far below. My legs screamed with every step, muscles trembling, blood searing through the side I hadn’t even realized had been cut. My breaths came shallow and fast, each inhale tasting of salt, smoke, and fear.I paused, pressed against a rock, forehead slick with sweat and rain. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely grasp the pistol I’d kept tucked at my waist. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me; the fog was a living thing, curling around the trees, swallowing the world.I tried to tell myself it was only a moment — only a stretch of fog and wet rock separating me from safety. Nico was alive. Luca was alive. But the echoes of yesterday’s chaos reverberated in my head: the warehouse, the shattered glass, Matteo, the blood. And worst of all, the memory of Nico’s eyes as the cabin fell apart, realizing I was gone.I swallowed the lump in my t