All Chapters of CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

~ANYA POV~A sudden, harsh pain in my chest drags me up from the crushing darkness.I gasp, my lungs seizing as they try to remember how to take in air. I open my eyes and am hit by a bright light that hurts. I have to squint and turn away from the strong light of the chandelier above me.It's blinding. It's white. It's alive.After what felt like a lifetime spent in the gloomy emptiness of unconsciousness, this overwhelming brightness is a shock to my entire system. It's too much. It's loud. The light is so bright it feels heavy on my eyelids.Slowly, carefully, I make my eyes get used to the bright light so I can see shapes. It takes a long, agonizing time. Eventually, I realize I'm not in a hospital. I am in a room. A clean room. A wide, luxurious room with gold trimmings and cream walls.The Master Bedroom.A scent drifts to my nose, quick and familiar, cutting through the clean air of the space. It isn't the metal taste of blood anymore. It's sandalwood. Cedar. It's César's colog

~CÉSAR POV~The heavy oak door clicks shut behind me, sealing her inside.I stand in the hallway for a moment, adjusting my cuffs. The quietness of the corridor is absolute, but inside my head, the roar of victory is deafening.Pregnant.The word tastes like sweet wine......rich, intoxicating, and dangerous.I did not plan for it to happen this quickly. I had intended to break her spirit first, to mold her into the perfect wife before planting my seed. But fate, it seems, is impatient. Fate decided to bind us together irrevocably before I even finished taming her.I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.I open the tracking application. Immediately, a green dot pulses on the screen. Location: Master Bedroom. Below it, a steady beat scrolls across the display.Heart rate: 98 BPM.She is panicked. Scared. But she is alive. And inside her, a second, smaller heart is beginning to form.A dark smirk curves my lips. She said she didn't want it. She begged to get rid of it. As if I woul

~ANYA POV~The word stays in the air like smoke. ‘Nobody.’I feel César's chest vibrate against my back. It isn't a laugh. It is a low, deep rumble that rattles my teeth. It's the sound of a fault line snapping deep underground right before the earthquake hits.He doesn't stand up. He doesn't shout. He simply stops tracing circles on my thigh. His hand goes still, heavy and hot through the thin linen of my pajamas."Nobody?" César repeats softly.The room is dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. You could hear my heart trying to beat its way out of my ribcage.Giovanni stands at the other end of the long mahogany table. He looks smug. He looks powerful in his three-piece suit, surrounded by men he thinks respect him. He thinks he just put a whore in her place. He thinks he is speaking for the "family."He has no idea he just stepped on a landmine."She is a distraction, César," Giovanni spits, gesturing at me with a manicured hand. "A nothing. A passing fancy. You risk our alliance

~ANYA POV~The door to the bedroom closes with a deep, expensive click.I stand in the center of the room, my heart beating against my ribs like a trapped bird. Iñigo is gone. The guards are outside. I am alone.I rush to the window.My hands fumble with the latch, shoving the heavy glass pane open. The warm Spanish air hits my face, smelling of salt and jasmine, but I don't care about the scent. I care about the shadows.I lean out, gripping the stone sill until my fingers ache. I scan the tree line where I saw the flash. Where I saw him."Diego," I whisper, the name getting lost in the wind.Nothing.Just the swaying of the cypress trees and the long, stretching shadows of the sunset. The grounds are empty. But I know he's there. My twin brother is out there, breathing the same air, watching this fortress, thinking he can find a way in.He doesn't know that César left the gate open on purpose.I pull back from the window, my stomach twisting in a sick knot. I feel nauseous again. No

~CESAR'S POV~I stand behind her in front of the vanity mirror.The black silk of the dress slides through my fingers like water. It is a dress made for a widow, mourning and painful. Good. Let her mourn the life she lost. Let her mourn the girl she used to be. That girl is dead.She is trembling.I rest my hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin is cool, clammy with that specific, sweet scent of fear that seems to cling to her permanently now. I watch her reflection. Her eyes are wide, dark tunnels of panic. She isn't looking at herself; she is looking at me.She is terrified.And God help me, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."Your brother is watching the house," I tell her.I feel her heart stutter against her ribs under my hand. I see the flash of hope, followed instantly by the crushing weight of reality.I know Diego is there. My snipers picked him up three hours ago. He is lying in the dirt at the edge of the estate, clutching a rusty rifle, thinking he is a ghost.