Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Mafia King’s Queen : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

RoccoThe moment I stepped inside through the front door, I knew.Blood. Gunpowder. Adrenaline.It clung in the air like incense following flames.She was there in her house — bare feet, stained silk robe. Her hair mussed, a smear of blood on her cheek that wasn't hers. Her eyes focused on mine, unyielding, firm.Fiorella D'Angelo. Fearless. Undisturbed by chaos.I slammed the door shut harder than I meant to. My boots banged against the marble as I walked across the room."I heard," I growled, my voice rougher than it should have been.She just nodded, as if I'd spoken something self-evident."I handled it."I clenched my teeth.I'd seen the security footage. Van pulling up to her compound, men with masks jumping out. Her guys falling fast. And then her, advancing like a fucking queen, gun in her hand, precision cold and perfect.I should've been there.I should've been the one to pull the trigger with her, not seeing it on some fucking monitor."That's not the point," I growled.Sh

RoccoI gave myself five seconds. Five to breathe, swallow the storm, and close the door on the desire to go after her and finish what we'd started.I came out, and she was beside the car, waiting for me. Her face was calm, but her fingers twisted the strap of her small black purse. One nervous giveaway. That was enough to make my lips twist.I opened the car door, and she slipped into the passenger seat, quiet.The roar of the engine roared to life, but between us in the car lay a heavy, tense silence.The tension was so tight around me that I could feel it hum between us — charged, dangerous.I cinched my hands on the steering wheel tighter than necessary as we pulled out of the drive.The night was calm, the streets almost deserted. But in this car, there was trouble fermenting.I didn't speak. I couldn't. Words felt pointless.She didn't either. She stared out the window, her reflection wavering on the glass. Her face was unreadable, but I noticed the way her throat contracted whe

RoccoThe night was quiet. Too quiet.I sat in Rafael's office, sipping whiskey, the embers smouldering low in the corner.We had concluded another meeting, another cycle of logistics for arm deliveries and allocation of territory.But my mind kept drifting back.To her.Fiorella.Her fire, her defiance, the way she kissed like she wished to set fire to a war.And maybe, just maybe, I desired to lose that battle.My phone vibrated on the extremely polished oak desk.I glanced down, praying for a note from one of our guards.It wasn't there.It was Leo — a D'Angelo guard.My gut dropped."Rocco, you have to come. Now."His voice was rough, frantic."The Marchesi… they attacked the estate. Fiorella's father is down. And now, they're surrounding the property. It's bad."I was on my feet before he even finished talking, the chair scraping harshly against the marble floor."Stay alive," I said with grit. "We're coming."Riccardo and Rafael sprang into instant alert.My face must have spoke

RoccoI hadn't planned on staying.But the second I spotted her sitting there, motionless, quiet, eyes sunken in a way I'd never seen, I knew I wasn't going anywhere.Fiorella D'Angelo wasn't someone you pitied. She was someone you feared, respected, maybe even admired. But tonight?She looked like something had settled on her chest, something she couldn't dislodge no matter how she fought.And watching her try to carry it alone made something primal stir in me.I sat down beside her on that ridiculously stiff sofa in her father's office, close enough to feel her tension, to hear every breath she took.She didn't flinch when I placed my hand over hers.Didn't pull away when I pulled her head onto my shoulder.That silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy with all the things we weren't saying.I held her, pushing her hair back slowly, rhythmically.Her breath caught once, and I pretended not to notice.I wasn't good at this.I didn't comfort.I didn't soothe.But with her?

RoccoThe De Luca compound was quiet at this time of night except for the soft static of security radios and the occasional grind of boots on gravel as guards patrolled the perimeter. Inside was no different. The dim lights created long shadows across the walls, and there was a silence in the air.I pushed through the doors of Rafael's office without knocking. He was already there, leaning against the large oak desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Riccardo was lounging on the leather couch across from him, one leg carelessly thrown over the other, an amused expression already on his face.They had been expecting me.I shut the door behind me and stepped inside. "This tug-of-war with the Marchesi brothers, it stops now."Rafael took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. His face was impassive, but he didn't interrupt me.Riccardo, instead, let out a low laugh. "So that's what this is about." He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yo