Todos los capítulos de Under the Mafia's Touch (MxM): Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The silence as they arrived at the penthouse was the first thing to hit him, thick and absolute. It wasn't the dead quiet of a warehouse or the muffled hush of a city street at night. This was a deep, luxurious silence, a sound that spoke of insulated walls and floors so meticulously crafted that no city noise could penetrate. The air was clean, devoid of the grime and rot of the streets. Noah stumbled into the cavernous garage behind Dominic, his arms still instinctively curled as if holding a sleeping Eli. He watched as a team of silently efficient people appeared from nowhere, their movements a seamless dance of order. They swarmed Dominic, their faces a mask of deference and concern, their hands expertly checking his wounds as if he were a precious, broken vase. The sight was surreal. This was not the blood-soaked, feral fighter from the alley. This was a king returning to his throne, and his subjects were ready to serve.A woman in a sharp black suit approached Noah and, wi

Noah went to a coffee shop where Herper agreed to meet him. The coffee shop was a flimsy shield against the city’s chaos. The air, thick with the scent of burnt sugar and old pastries, felt suffocating. Noah sat in a shadowed corner, his hands trembling as he stared at the condensation on his water glass. He slipped away from Jaxon's watchful eye, using a fabricated phone call to a friend as an excuse after series of plea The lie had felt brittle on his tongue, but Jaxon, to Noah's shock, had let him go, his eyes narrowed in a way that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. Now, here he was, sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for the woman who held his entire world in her hands.Harper walked in, and a cold dread washed over him. She looked different. Her hair was a vibrant blonde now, her makeup meticulously applied. She carried a sleek, black designer bag, and her eyes, once a warm, familiar shade of brown, were now cold. She was a different person, a stranger wearing

The silence of the penthouse, once a peaceful reprieve, felt like a warning. Dominic sat on the couch, the weight of a heavy book in his hands, but his focus was not on the pages. His mind was a coiled spring, a weapon waiting for a signal. The memory of Noah's face, his sudden fear, his hurried lies—had replayed in his mind a thousand times since the younger man left. Noah had promised to return, and Dominic believed him, not out of a naive trust, but out of a deep, primal certainty that he was his. The door slid open, and Noah entered, his body a tense line, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He was back. But he was not whole. The light in his eyes, the light that had just hours ago shone with a newfound peace, was gone, replaced by a deep, cold dread. He looked like a soldier returning from a battle he had lost."Noah," Dominic said, his voice a low rumble. He set the book aside, his full attention on him. "You're back."Noah nodded, a sharp, quick motion. "I am. I just..

“Hey Riley can we meet up today?” Noah asked over the phone.“Depends, who am I talking to?” Riley asked.“It's Noah,” he said.“Oh Noah! What's up? Why calling with a new line?” Riley asked again.“Long story. Can we meet up today? I wanna talk to you about something” Noah said.“Sure thing. Meet me at the bar” she said.“Alright thanks” Noah responded.The bar pulsed with bass, neon lights bleeding into the haze of cigarette smoke. Noah ducked inside, tugging his jacket tighter. The noise hit him first, then Riley’s sharp whistle.“Look at you,” she called from a corner booth, her pixie-cut hair glowing copper under the lights. She raised her glass like a toast. “Didn’t know you had a model gig on the side.”“You look sweeter than most suits that come up to the bar”“Stop it,” Noah muttered, sliding in across from her. “I look the same.”“The hell you don't,” Riley shot back. She squinted at him. “That glow? Either new skincare or someone's taking good care of” And judging by th

The dining table gleamed under the soft chandelier light, crystal glasses catching flecks of gold. Dominic sat at the head, a figure carved in sharp lines and shadows. His tailored shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the scar that traced his cheek giving him an edge that silenced most men before they spoke.Across from him, Noah pushed noodles around his plate. His fork scraped too loud, betraying the unease coiled in his chest. He glanced up once, caught those storm-gray eyes, then quickly looked away.“You’ve been quiet,” Dominic said, his voice low, carrying more weight than the words deserved. “Something on your mind?”Noah forced a smile. “Just tired.”Dominic leaned back, studying him like one studies an opponent before a move. “Tired doesn’t make your hand shake.”Noah froze, fork suspended. His hand really had been trembling. He set it down quickly. “It’s nothing.”“Nothing,” Dominic repeated, rolling the word over his tongue. “I’ve heard that before. It usually means t