All Chapters of 185 Days Bound To The Mafia Lord : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Aspen The streetlights had already flickered on by the time I reached the compound. My hands shook violently, and my chest felt as if it were being crushed from every side. I could not breathe deeply, could not calm the pounding in my ribs. Every step toward the front door felt heavier than the last. Every memory of my mother’s voice stabbed through me again.Get out.Where is Clear.Why are you here.The words echoed inside me, relentless. Twice today she had thrown me out, twice she had screamed at me as though I were nothing, as though my presence made her life worse. The first time I had been accompanied by Killian, and even then she had rejected me. Today, I had come alone, hoping against hope that she might be calmer. She was not.I pressed the doorbell with trembling fingers. The chime sounded annoyingly cheerful. The door swung open, and there he was. Killian. Tall, broad, impossibly calm, impossibly dangerous. His black suit looked sharper than any weapon. His eyes, dark and

Aspen Killian leaned against the doorway of the study, dark eyes fixed on me like he was measuring risk in real time. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him, the faintest crease in his brow betraying his worry. I had learned to read him in months of living under his watchful presence. He was the kind of man who did not need to raise his voice to be heard, and his silence carried weight.“I want to take Clear out today,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, light even, though my stomach tightened at his gaze. “Shopping. She hasn’t been out in the city for years. She deserves one afternoon that’s hers.”He shifted slightly, dark hair falling just over his forehead, and I noticed the small, human gesture that betrayed concern rather than authority. “You want to go into the city,” he said slowly, “without my guards in sight.”“Yes,” I said firmly. “Just us. She should feel normal, Killian. I’m asking you for that.”He studied me, silent. There was a long pause, the kind that s

ASPEN I walked down the hospital corridor with Clear behind me. The floor was too shiny, the lights too bright, and every sound echoed as if the building itself were holding its breath. I felt smaller with every step. Clear’s presence made it worse, because she belonged here in a way I never had. I had spent three years visiting my mother alone. I knew the rules. I knew how to move, when to speak, how to sit without being noticed. I had learned to erase myself in that room. Now my erasure would be tested against the living proof of the daughter my mother had lost.Clear followed a few steps behind, careful, deliberate. Her hoodie hung loosely over her thin frame. Her hair was short now, framing her face in a way that made her look older, sharper. I could see her hands clench at her sides. She hesitated in small, silent ways that betrayed her nervousness. I wanted to warn her. I wanted to tell her she did not know what she was walking into.The door came into view. Room 417.I paused.

Aspen Clear and I finally went home. The drive had been quiet, filled only with the sound of rain tapping against the car window and the occasional sniffle from me. Clear had not spoken much, lost in her own thoughts, probably replaying the encounter with our mother over and over in her mind. I had tried to speak, to explain a few things, but the words stuck in my throat. My mind was still spinning, still raw from the fear, the panic, and the weight of being unseen.As soon as we arrived, Clear went straight to her room. She dropped her bag beside the bed and collapsed onto the mattress, her body heavy with exhaustion. She did not even glance at me. Her breathing was steady but slow, a clear sign that her mind and body were done for the day. I watched her for a moment, wanting to speak, to say something comforting, but the words faltered again. She was gone in her world now, and I was left behind.I sank into the sitting room, the only quiet place in the house that felt empty enough

Aspen I yelled when he yanked the phone again, my voice sharp enough to make even the walls tremble slightly. “Killian! Seriously? Give me back my phone!” I snapped, snapping my hand toward him, though he was fast—way too fast—and his fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.He didn’t answer me immediately. He just held my phone away, just out of reach, and tilted his head like he was considering me, sizing me up. The silence stretched long enough to make me swallow hard, my anger shifting into frustration.“You know what?” he finally said, his voice low and deliberate. “You love to hang out.”I froze mid-gesture, blinking at him. “Excuse me?”“You like spending time with people,” Killian repeated, letting my words linger like a dare. “You like going out. You like laughing, being around others. You enjoy it, right?”I blinked at him, caught completely off guard. He wasn’t accusing me. He wasn’t scolding me. He was… stating it like a fact. Something dark and possessive in the way