All Chapters of Disguised to kill the mafia heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Francesa’s POV I love torture. Ah, got you there. You didn’t even let me finish. I meant what I said, don’t confuse yourself. I love inflicting torture. On whom you may ask. My victims. I don’t need to talk much; my actions speak for themselves. Right now, I am perched on a branch high within the shadows of a massive oak tree, my dark outfit blending effortlessly with the night. The security guards patrolled at tight intervals. They are well-trained and armed. I will give them that. But they are yet to meet me. Cameras spun with precision, the infrared sensors flashing red lights at short intervals. They were sleek drones, military-grade toys scanning the perimeter. This man must have thought they were his ultimate defense. Isn’t that cute? I deployed a small device no larger than a coin. The pulse from the electromagnetic jammer swept through the air, causing the drones to lose their purpose, moving so aimlessly like blind insects. A ripple of static crackled through

Matteo’s POV The only reason I came to this circus of flashing lights and sweating bodies was to see the owner of the club. One of my best friends, unfortunately. He’d been pestering me to show up for weeks.. So I showed up reluctantly. Half-expecting to be bored out of my goddamn mind. Then she ran into me. Correction, she slammed into my chest like the universe had just tripped and fallen into my arms. My first reaction? Annoyance. Obviously. People don’t bump into me. Not unless they want to lose something important—like teeth. Or lungs. But her scent. Fuck. It hit me like a blade pressed against skin. It was so unexpected and sharp, beautiful in the way poisons are beautiful. A subtle blend of danger and sweetness. Spice and smoke and something feral beneath it all. I looked down, and hell opened a door. Shoulder-length hair, slightly mussed from dancing. Light caramel skin kissed by the chaos of neon strobes. And unnatural and haunting violet eyes. They pinne

Francesa’s POV My body went stiff. This was the kind of stiff that coiled beneath your skin like a snake, waiting to strike. The man who’d led us in leaned toward the heir and spoke in low tones. The bastard didn’t even look our way. He was arrogant and relaxed. Like none of us were a threat. Pity. I should’ve slit his throat when I had the chance. Right after he made me come so hard I forgot my damn name. My jaw ticked. If I’d known he was the heir back then, I’d have gutted him. slowly and lovingly. Maybe hummed a lullaby while his intestines spilled out like ribbon. How the hell did I miss this in the files? No way a face like that just slipped past me. Pathetic. My thoughts were cut short when the older man turned back to us and barked, “Line up.” We did. I slid into position, a picture of calm confidence, masking the blade coiled beneath my skin. The heir’s gaze swept across us with calculating, and piercing eyes. It looked bored. He wouldn’t recognize me. We’d fucked

Franco’s POV Il Campo di Sangue. The name of the field we were to fight on. Blood and soil, a canvas made for me to paint in red. I smiled slowly, letting him see just enough of my teeth to make it unclear if it was amusement… or hunger. “I love the name,” I purred, my voice low, savoring the syllables as if they were already dripping with his blood. In my head, I saw it clearly—his body folded under me, his breath rattling as I drove the life out of him. The great Matteo, brought to his knees in his own sacred field. Would I survive him? Maybe not. His strength radiated off him in waves, a predator’s dominance. But arrogance was my armor, and cruelty was sharper than steel. If I could not overpower him, I could unmake him. Break him from the inside out. I tilted my head, feigning curiosity, but every word was a sharpened barb. “Are we using weapons,” I asked, voice slow, deliberate, “or are you too much of a pussy to stand with only your hands?” His jaw flexed. For the brie

Matteo’s POV I sat at the edge of the bed, the mirror catching every ugly angle of the bastard’s handiwork. My jaw throbbed where Franco’s knuckles had kissed bone. I dabbed antiseptic over the cut, the sting biting deep, and I almost smiled at it. Pain doesn’t bother me. It reminds me I’m still human—barely. The bandage stuck halfway when I tilted my head, studying the bruise blooming across my cheek like a fucked-up masterpiece. Franco landed a good one. But that wasn’t what gnawed at me. What twisted in my chest was the fact I held back. I didn’t go full strength on him. Why the fuck didn’t I? I strapped the last of the gauze around my jaw, tugged it firm, and leaned back in the bed. The image of Franco pinned beneath me. My weight pressing him into the floor. It felt familiar. A knock split the thought in half, dragging me back from the edge of memory. “Matteo,” came the butler’s voice. I pushed off the bed, rolling my sore jaw before I crossed the room and yanked open