All Chapters of Falling For The Mafia Boss: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn.It wasn’t the soft, cleansing kind.It was relentless….sheets of cold water that blurred the world outside the villa’s reinforced windows into a smear of gray and shadow.Inside, the storm had its match.The silence in the war room was heavy enough to choke on. The only sound was the steady hum of the surveillance monitors and the faint hiss of the espresso machine in the corner. No one touched their cups, not even Raven.She stood at the far end of the table, one hand resting on the cold steel surface, her eyes locked on the rotating camera feeds. The stormlight caught the hard line of her jaw, the tension there.I didn’t need to look to know she was thinking the same thing I was.Franca had moved.Not an open move and not the kind of declaration she’d make when she wanted the world to bleed but in the way a predator shifts its weight before the strike.“She’s testing us,” Raven murmured, finally breaking the silence. “These drops along the docks,

The first thing that hit me wasn’t the light, it was the sound.The low thrum of engines I hadn’t heard before, the subtle shift under my feet as the ship’s weight adjusted against the dock. It wasn’t docking anymore. It was leaving.Franca had planned this from the moment Bishop was chained here. She wanted me trapped, not dead or maybe not yet.I didn’t give Matteo the order to fire,it wasn't time to yet.The silhouettes of her men stood in the flare of the deck lights, every one of them armed but still, waiting.And then she stepped out.“Twice now,” Franca said, her voice carrying over the creak of metal and water. “Twice I’ve walked into your world and twice you’ve let me walk away.”I kept my face still. “You’re testing me.”“I’m measuring you,” she said. “And I’m pleased to say you haven’t disappointed. But you’ve picked up some bad habits.”She glanced at Elias no, not Elias. Matteo’s shadow blocked her view, but I knew where her eyes had aimed. She’d learned enough from the v

Raven’s POVThe morning felt wrong from the start.The light slanted through the blinds in thin blades, striping the walls with pale gold. Matteo had already been up, I could tell from the sound of water running in the kitchen and the faint scrape of a chair shifting. Elias moved quieter now, too quiet for a boy his age already learning how to erase himself when it mattered.I lay still on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Franca’s folder sat where I’d left it, a black weight against the edge of the table. The photo inside had burned itself into my skull. The job she’d handed me. The leash disguised as an assignment.But I hadn’t touched it since.The smell of coffee reached me, bitter and grounding. Matteo’s habits always bled into the room: order, small comforts, rituals of survival. But today, I felt the tension under them. The pauses are too long, the silence too heavy.I pushed myself up, bones aching like I’d aged years overnight. The world was moving, and I was lagging behind.

The night didn’t end when Franca’s body hit the ground.It spread outward, rippling into the air, staining the world with the sound of gunfire and the smell of burning flesh. The warehouse was still shaking with echoes when the agents swarmed, their boots thundering on the concrete like war drums. Franca’s scream had cut short into a gurgle, then silence. But her presence her shadow lingered, clinging to the walls, to my skin, to every nerve in my body.I didn’t watch her die,not fully. My eyes had fixed on Matteo and Elias on their faces bathed in the strobe of muzzle flashes. Elias’s hands trembled around the pistol he wasn’t supposed to be holding. Matteo’s jaw was set in stone, his body a shield between the boy and the chaos, even though both of them had betrayed me hours earlier.And me? I stood there, frozen, the phone still clutched in my hand from Franca’s last call, her calling me a good girl and a Loyal dog. The words hissed like venom in my ear, echoing louder than the guns

The silence was heavier than any firefight I’d ever walked away from.We’d spent years breathing gunpowder, living off adrenaline and betrayal, and now here we were sitting in a rented apartment in Lisbon, surrounded by furniture that didn’t smell of blood, staring at walls that hadn’t heard a single scream.Freedom, at least on the surface.But freedom had its own weight.The rain outside tapped against the window, soft and steady, a lullaby for people who didn’t know what it meant to have enemies. I sat on the sill, cigarette burning low between my fingers, watching lights smear across the wet street. Matteo sat at the table behind me, glass of whiskey untouched, his knuckles drumming quietly against the wood. Elias was sprawled on the couch, headphones in, pretending he wasn’t listening to every shift in the room.We hadn’t spoken much since Franca,not really. Oh, we said things about groceries, about rent, about the half-busted water heater but nothing real. Because real meant pul