All Chapters of The Mafia King’s Queen : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

RoccoI observed Fiorella from the driver's seat as she looked out the window, drinking in the seemingly endless landscape that surrounded us. The penthouse, the city, all the things that had been at the centre of my universe for so long were now behind us, replaced by winding roads, rolling hills, and the occasional glimpse of the lake that rested at the centre of the estate.She looked at me, suspicion creeping into her eyes. "Where are we?"I smiled. "Patience, baby."She huffed, crossing her arms, but I caught the way her lips curled as if she was fighting not to smile. I had expected her to push harder, to demand answers, but instead, she let herself get lost in the moment, letting me lead. That was different. And I fucking loved it.The property appeared on the horizon as we crested a hill—miles of property, isolated and untouched, with the kind of peace you didn't see in the city. The house itself wasn't gaudy, but it was beautiful, built like an old villa with stone fronts, da

RoccoBlood. Metal. Smoke.Everything was spinning, the edge of my vision coming in and out as I fought to get my head around what the fuck had just happened. One minute we were driving back to the penthouse after the night of our lives, and the next minute a truck had come out of nowhere, colliding with Fiorella's side of the car with fatal force.The force had been vicious—one that had overturned the car. One that had left me gasping for breath, the seatbelt biting into my ribcage. One that had left her slumped over, bleeding.My fingers were trembling as I reached out for her. "Fiorella!"She didn't budge.Didn't even flinch.Her head was cocked to the side, blood streaming down her temple, her lips slightly open as if she had tried to say something but never got the chance.I was thrown into a paralysing fear, my chest tightening like a steel claw.No. No. No.I shoved the pain in my own body aside, ignoring the cut above my eye and the stabbing pain in my ribs. I didn't have the

RoccoShe had to wake up in the next 24 hours. That’s what the nurse had said.It was crucial.Her body had taken too much damage, and her vitals were unstable. If she didn’t wake up soon…I shook the thought away, clenching my fists until my nails bit into my skin.I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.She was strong.She had to be.The door opened, and Riccardo stepped inside, his expression serious. He didn’t speak at first, just took in the scene.“Rafael’s handling things,” he said after a moment, walking toward me. “We have men stationed outside her room and all over the hospital. No one gets in or out without us saying so.”I nodded.“And you?” he asked. “You look like shit.”“Don’t care,” I muttered.He sighed, pulling up a chair beside me. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. That’s why I told Rafael I’d stay with you. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid before you’re fully healed.”I finally looked at him. “You think I’m just going to sit here and do nothing?”“You’re bar

RoccoI walked out of the hospital room, shoving aside the sharp, unyielding pain in my side. The nurse had warned me not to leave, that I was still healing, still recovering.I didn't care.Pain was temporary. Pain was nothing.But the anger boiling inside me? That wasn't going anywhere until I'd made Vincent pay.The hallway was still, illuminated by florescent lights that cast creepy shadows along the tile. My men blocked every exit route, their eyes darting towards me as I stepped out. They didn't ask questions. They knew I was going there.I walked purposefully, the weight of my decision pressing against my shoulders. I must return to Fiorella, protect her while she sleeps. But at this instant, my passion was stronger than my sense.Vincent awaited.And I was ready, more than willing to encounter him.The journey to the warehouse was silent, the atmosphere heavy with foreboding. My men were mute. They would not dare provoke me.I relived the crash in my head, over and over, a nev

FiorellaWarmth. That was the first thing I felt.It was not the frigid sterility of the hospital room or the numb pain crawling through my veins—it was the warmth of a hand around mine, hard and unrelenting, holding on to me.I followed the warmth, opening my heavy eyes. The room was dark, shadows creeping up the walls, but my gaze immediately landed on the man lying beside me.Rocco.He was awake. Wide awake.His grip on my hand was firm but careful, as though he didn't want to press too hard. His eyes—dark and hard—mapped my face with something I couldn't quite place, something raw and unshielded. He was gaunt-looking, as though he hadn't slept for weeks, but there was no question about the hard intensity in his eyes. He had waited. Watched. Held on.The second our eyes met, something shifted in his face. Relief. Something deeper than that, something unspoken.I parted my lips, my throat dry and scratchy. “Rocco…”His grip on my hand tightened, just slightly. He exhaled, a breath t