All Chapters of BOUGHT,TAMED AND TAKEN : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The night felt endless, every second stretching like a thread ready to snap. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, sharp and metallic, mingling with the iron tang of blood that clung to Luciano’s shirt.He refused to let me go. Even as his body trembled, even as his breath grew shallow, his hand was locked behind my neck, pulling me close.“Luciano,” I whispered, pressing against him, terrified of the weight of his silence. “You need help. You’re bleeding too much.”He didn’t answer right away. His forehead pressed harder against mine, as though he was using me to anchor himself in place. For the first time, he looked… human. Not the untouchable mafia king who bent the world with a glance, but a man fighting to keep himself tethered to life.Finally, his lips moved, brushing against my temple. “Don’t… let them take me from you.”My throat closed. He thought I’d let him slip away. That I’d give up. The thought alone broke something in me.“I won’t,” I said, fierce now, choking

I never knew what true fear felt like until tonight.I sit beside Luciano’s bed, my hands clasped tightly around his, afraid that if I let go, I’ll lose him forever. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of machines and the steady, fragile rhythm of his breathing. He looks nothing like the man I know. His face is pale, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising slowly as if each breath costs him more than he can give.The sheets are white, but stained with the memory of his blood. I can still see it on my hands even though I’ve scrubbed them raw.I can’t stop trembling.“Don’t do this to me,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Don’t you dare leave me, Luciano. Not after everything.”His hand is warm but weak in mine. I bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. I never imagined myself here—sitting by the side of the man who once bought me, who once made me feel like a prisoner in golden chains. And yet, now? He’s not just my captor. He’s my anchor. My heart. My everyt

I woke before the sun.The room was still dark, the air cool, but my eyes shot open the moment I felt Luciano shift beside me. His breathing hitched, a faint sound of pain escaping his lips.“Luciano?” My voice was barely a whisper.His eyes opened slowly, heavy with exhaustion. The light from the small lamp glowed against his sharp features, even paler now, but alive. Always that word—alive.“Go back to sleep,” he rasped.“As if I could,” I muttered, sitting up so I could look at him properly. “You win the award for worst patient alive.”He smirked faintly, though his body tensed when he tried to adjust. “I don’t like being weak.”My chest ached at the admission. He hated this—the stillness, the dependence, the fact that he wasn’t in control. I leaned close, brushing my fingers along his jaw. “You’re not weak. You’re recovering. That’s different.”His dark eyes searched mine, as though weighing my words. Finally, he sighed and closed them again. “You’ll make a liar of me, Aria. You’l

I couldn’t breathe.The sound of glass shattering still rang in my ears, sharp and violent, like the world itself had cracked open. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my chest, trying to hold myself together. But no matter how hard I pressed, it felt like everything inside me was spilling out.Luciano stood in front of me, his face as hard as stone. His eyes, those deep, dangerous eyes, were locked on mine. They burned with a fire I didn’t know how to face. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to destroy me or hold me close until I disappeared inside him.“Aria,” he said at last, his voice low and sharp, like the edge of a blade.I swallowed, but my throat was dry. My lips parted, but no words came out.“What you did,” he continued, his steps closing the space between us, “it broke something in me.”His words hit me harder than any gunshot ever could. I wanted to explain, to scream that I never meant to hurt him, that every choice I made was to survive. But my voice was

The morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, painting lines across the floor. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands pressed against my knees, trying to steady the storm inside me. For once, Luciano was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His face looked softer in sleep, almost human, almost vulnerable. But I knew better. He was a man built from fire and shadows, and every time I thought I understood him, something new unraveled.I touched his hand gently, almost afraid he would wake. My mind kept circling back to what Isadora had said—the revelation that my father was alive. That truth had turned everything I thought I knew upside down. And now… now I couldn’t stop asking myself: Was Luciano protecting me, or keeping me from the truth?I didn’t wake him. Instead, I slipped quietly from the bed, pulled a robe around me, and walked into the hall. The house was quiet, too quiet. The silence carried weight, the kind of silence before something breaks.As I