Lahat ng Kabanata ng Monster Can Love Too: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

Alessio didn’t sleep.Noa woke in a haze of bruised skin, sore lips, and the faintest sting across his throat. The air still smelled of his expensive cologne, cigarettes, and the sweat of dominance. The scent clung to the sheets, to Noa’s hair, to his own skin that felt too hot and too tender to move. His body hummed with exhaustion, every nerve raw, but Alessio hadn’t moved.He sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, tattoos cutting into the dark like warnings etched into flesh. The ink seemed alive in the low glow of the bedside lamp, shifting shadows across the hard planes of his body. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, the ember pulsing faintly in rhythm with his breathing. He didn’t look tired. He didn’t look human.Noa tried to shift, the soreness biting deep, only to feel the pull. A sharp tug snapped against his wrist. His eyes followed the sensation, and his stomach dropped. The thin chain Alessio had fastened around him gleamed in the dim light, tethered tight to t

The night didn’t bring peace.It never really did, not in Alessio’s house, not in that bed that smelled of smoke, sweat, and something darker. The silence around them was thick, but silence didn’t mean safety. Silence meant the walls were listening. Silence meant he had nowhere to run.Noa couldn’t sleep, not with Alessio’s arm clamped heavily around his waist like a lock, not with the weight of the iron still lying across the nightstand like a sleeping animal ready to wake. Every time his eyes flicked open, his gaze landed on it black metal, cruel shape, the faint glint in the dim light. He swore he could already smell burned flesh though it hadn’t touched him yet. His mind replayed the words again and again. Tomorrow, I will heat the iron.By morning, his chest felt raw, like the threat itself had already burned into him. It was as if his body anticipated pain before it came, flinching with ghosts of wounds he hadn’t received.Beside him, Alessio stirred. Not in the way of a man wa

The dark swallowed everything.Not just the kind of dark that comes when a light burns out. This was heavier, alive, pressing against skin and bone. It sat in Noa’s chest like wet ash, smothering, suffocating. His breath clawed out of his throat, jagged, frantic, too loud for the silence it broke. Every exhale scraped his ribs, every inhale felt like glass.He couldn’t see Alessio anymore. Couldn’t see the iron. Couldn’t even see Marco’s body, though he knew he knew it was sprawled across the floorboards, blood cooling into something sticky, cloying, metallic in the air.Just the voice. Calm. Controlled. Deadly.“Alessio Moretti,” the man said again, the words clipped, precise, not a threat so much as an order already written into stone. “Step away from him. Now.”Alessio laughed low, sharp, the sound of broken glass underfoot. That sound didn’t belong in human lungs. It belonged in something jagged, something too twisted to bleed.“Do you know how many corpses have whispered my name

The lock on the door clicked.Not the soft kind. Not the harmless shuffle of wood and metal. It was sharp, heavy, the kind of sound you felt in your bones before your ears processed it. The kind of shift that made the air heavier, made your spine stiffen without thought.Alessio froze mid-breath. He was still buried deep in Noa, sweat rolling in a thin line down his temple, chest slick and heaving against Noa’s trembling back. His grip on Noa’s hip tightened instantly, fingers digging bruises into soft skin, as though his body already knew what storm waited beyond that door.The hinges groaned. The door swung open.And Dante stepped in.Sharp suit. Black tie. The kind of elegance that was a weapon in itself. His eyes weren’t amused tonight. They were dark, heavy, gleaming with something crueler, colder, far more dangerous. His gaze swept the room in a single, calculated pass, blood smeared on the walls, the sharp smell of gunpowder still lingering faintly, sweat clinging to the humid

Gunfire cracked down the hallway.It wasn’t just sound, it was a rupture, a tearing open of the world. The walls shook, plaster dust spilling from the ceiling, each bullet a hammer against the air.Alessio didn’t hesitate. He yanked the door open so violently it slammed into the wall with a crack. His gun was already raised, his eyes black with murder. His veins bulged against his skin, his face carved into something that looked more like a mask of vengeance than flesh.His men were already falling. No screams just choked sounds as bullets cut through them, their bodies thudding heavy against marble. The blood sprayed high across the cream walls, slicking them crimson. Dante’s crew had stormed the building like wolves, merciless and quick, their boots pounding in rhythm with the gunfire.Noa heard it all from the room. He sat curled on the bed, hands shaking so hard the sheets slipped through his grip. Metal on flesh. The sick snap of bones. Curses cut off mid-scream. The stench of gu