Biker's Forbidden Desire의 모든 챕터: 챕터 141 - 챕터 150

Axel POV"What do we do about the DeLuca family?" I asked, looking around the mahogany table at my captains.Ricci didn't hesitate. "Hit them back. Hard.""That starts a war, Ricci," I countered."We're already in a war. They just haven't made it official yet.""There has to be another way," I argued, but the room was silent."There isn't," Ricci said. "Not with families like the DeLucas. They only understand strength. They want our territory. Period."The DeLuca problem escalated. They wanted our Brooklyn territory, claiming Vincent had stolen it years ago. I had inherited a mess I didn't create, and now their crew was harassing our businesses and scaring off customers.I was stuck. I had no good options: violence or surrender. Both were unacceptable."Vincent dealt with the DeLucas for twenty years," another captain said. "He kept them in line.""How?" I asked."Leverage. He had something on the old Don. Something that kept th

Axel POVI almost killed them, my wife and my unborn child. All because I made a deal with the devil and lied to her face. I sat in my car outside the hospital, hands shaking, as the doctor's words replayed in my head. At twenty-six weeks, premature labor is a death sentence or a lifetime of struggle. It was all my fault.I sat in Angelo’s office, the air thick with the scent of old paper and the weight of my own failures. I hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the hospital monitors, the jagged green line of the contractions that my lies had caused."You look like hell, Dante," Angelo said, sliding a glass of scotch across the desk."I feel like it," I rasped. "I went to the hospital to fix her, and the doctor told me she needs 'peace.' How am I supposed to give her peace when my soul is tied to Vincent and the captains are sharpening their knives?"Angelo leaned forward, his eyes hard. "You think you’re the first

Axel POVWe left the hospital the next day. I carried Marco like he was made of glass, wrapped tight in blankets. Outside, the peace shattered. Cameras flashed and reporters swarmed, shouting about the "Moretti heir." My son’s face was everywhere before we even reached the car.The drive back from the hospital wasn't a homecoming; it was a tactical maneuver. I held Marco against my chest, feeling his tiny, rhythmic heartbeats against my own armor. He was so small, a fragile light in a world that thrived on shadows. When the flashbulbs went off outside the ER, I felt a physical surge of aggression. Every click of a camera was a recorded weakness."He’s not a child to them, Em," I muttered as we stepped into the foyer of our home, the heavy oak doors thudding shut behind us. "He’s a vulnerability.""He’s a baby, Axel," she whispered, exhausted. "He’s just a baby."I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was already looking at the windows, calculating sightlines and entry points.I called Ricci t

Emilia POVIsabella gripped the wheel. Her knuckles were white. I sat next to her, shaking. I couldn't stop crying. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood on Axel’s hands. It wasn't just a few spots. He was soaked in it. He had killed twelve people and didn't care.Behind us, Marco was quiet in his car seat. I had just taken him away from his father. The guilt felt like a heavy weight on my chest."You did the right thing," Isabella said."Did I? I just broke our family. I took a son from his father.""You took him from a man who is becoming a monster," Isabella said. "There is something you need to know. About Carlo. About Axel’s father.""I don't want to hear about him," I said."You have to. Axel is doing exactly what Carlo did. Carlo wasn't always like that. Before he married Maria, he had a first wife named Giuliana. He loved her. They had a son named Luca. Axel had an older brother he never knew about."I froze. "A brot

Emilia POVThey sedated me again. Too hysterical. Too dangerous to myself. When I finally woke, the room was dim and smelled of bleach. My head felt like it was filled with lead.Axel was gone. Good. I couldn’t look at him without seeing the blood on his shirt or the cold, calculating look in his eyes. I didn't want to see the Don; I wanted the man who had promised me a life in Oregon, far away from this graveyard.Isabella was in the next room. Stable but critical. I wanted to crawl through the wall to see her, but my ribs screamed every time I took a breath. My head pounded in sync with my heart. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the feeling of my empty arms. Knowing Marco was out there. Hungry. Cold. Crying for a mother who wasn't coming.A nurse came in to check my vitals."How are you feeling, Mrs. Moretti?""How do you think?" I snapped. "My son is gone. My ribs are broken. My husband is a murderer. I’m doing great."S