บททั้งหมดของ Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The morning light streamed into the lavish hotel room, illuminating the opulent disorder. Rafe stood before a full-length mirror, his torso bare. The water from his shower still gleamed on his skin. With a focused expression, he carefully applied the final pieces of a intricate, temporary tattoo to his upper back—a coiling serpent whose scales seemed to shift in the light. It was a necessary part of the "Lorenzo" disguise, a deliberate flaw to distract from the familiar lines of his own posture and the recognizable power in his stance.He frowned at his reflection, irritation flickering in his cold eyes. Annoying. I don't even want to wear this now. His thoughts were already turning to the agent next door. The game has gone on long enough. Perhaps it's time to pay a visit to Jay and finally show him the face behind all the masks.A sharp, impatient knock echoed from the suite door, a rhythm that was both familiar and unwelcome.Rafe’s head tilted. He pulled on a black silk robe, leavi

The lock on Rafe's suite gave way with a soft, definitive click. Jay slipped inside, the door sighing shut behind him, plunging him into a silence that felt heavier than any he had ever known.The room was immaculate, cold, and smelled faintly of sandalwood and power. This was the lion's den. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum against the oppressive quiet. He had to be fast. Marco was providing a distraction, but it wouldn't last long.His eyes, adjusted to the gloom, scanned the room. A sleek laptop on the desk. A stack of documents. There. That was the prize.He moved with the ghost-like precision his training had drilled into him, his gloved fingers hovering over the laptop. But something else caught his eye—a small, old-fashioned silver key, sitting alone on the bedside table. It was out of place, too deliberate. A decoy? Or the key to everything?He reached for it."That is not for you."The voice came from the shadows directly behind him, low, calm, and freezing

The silence in Jay’s room was a physical presence, thick and suffocating. It was the silence of a tomb, broken only by the ragged, panicked rhythm of his own breathing. He leaned against the locked door, the solid wood the only thing separating him from the monster in the adjoining suite. His body thrummed with the aftershocks of adrenaline—his knuckles were skinned, his wrist ached from Rafe’s grip, and a deep, bone-chilling terror had taken root in his soul.He had escaped. For now. But the look in Rafe’s eyes hadn’t been one of defeat; it had been one of patience. The patience of a predator who knew the cage was still locked, and his prey was simply in a different corner.I can’t do this alone.The thought was a confession of weakness that grated against every fiber of his training, but it was the truth. He was outmatched, outmaneuvered, and psychologically unraveling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking so violently he almost dropped the secure, encrypted satellite phone.

The atmosphere in Rafe's penthouse office was a stark contrast to the charged intimacy of the hotel suite. Here, the air was cold, sterile, and smelled of old money and new danger. Floor-to-ceiling windows presented a sprawling, indifferent view of Milan, a chessboard for the men who stood within.Rafe stood by the window, his back to the room, a crystal glass of neat whiskey in his hand. The quiet click of the door announced the arrival he’d been expecting."Brother," a voice, bright and sharp as a new razor, cut through the silence.Rafe didn't turn. "Lorenzo."Lorenzo Bianchi strode into the room, a whirlwind of chaotic energy contained within an impeccably tailored maroon suit. He threw himself into a large leather armchair, propping his polished shoes on the edge of Rafe's obsidian desk—a deliberate act of provocation."I hear you've been collecting pets," Lorenzo said, a wide, teasing grin on his face. "And using my good name to do it. I'm touched, really. Is he as fun as he loo

The confrontation with Lorenzo had left a residue of filth on Jay’s skin that no shower could wash away. He stood under the scalding water until his skin was raw and pink, but the memory of that obsessive touch, the violating whisper, remained etched into his nerves. When he emerged, wrapped in a thick hotel robe, the suite felt different. It was no longer just a prison; it was the eye of a hurricane, a temporary calm between the violent forces of the two Bianchi brothers.He found Rafe not in the bedroom, but in the main living area of the suite, standing by the window with a glass of water. He had changed into dark, casual trousers and a simple black sweater, the informal attire making him seem both more approachable and more terrifyingly real. He didn't turn as Jay entered, but his reflection in the dark glass watched him."Your heart is still racing," Rafe stated, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. "You are safe now.""Safe?" Jay's laugh was brittle. "I'm in a room with a m