All Chapters of Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Cillian The safe house has never felt this full. Men move through the halls constantly. Guards rotating. Phones ringing. Weapons are being cleaned. Orders are being passed quietly from room to room. War. The entire building feels like war. And still… The room Elena is in remains silent.Like the world itself stops at that door. I stand outside it for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the handle. I haven’t slept. Don’t plan to. Every time I close my eyes, I see her chained to that wall. Bruised. Bleeding. Too still. My jaw tightens. A car pulls up outside. Then another.Voices echo faintly from downstairs. Different voices. Female. Declan appears at the end of the hallway. “They’re here.”I nod once. Nothing else. Because I already know who. Sophia and Maya. Elena’s girls. The only people outside of us she truly trusts. I step away from the door just as foo

Cillian The rain hasn’t stopped. It batters against the windows of the safe house in steady waves, turning the skyline of New York City into blurred lights and shadows. The city looks colder like this. Meaner. Good. It fits my mood.I stand near the bed, staring down at Elena while the doctor checks her vitals again. Sophia hovers nearby like a guard dog ready to rip someone’s throat out if they breathe wrong near her friend.I don’t mind it. Elena deserves people willing to fight for her. Even against me. “She’s stable,” the doctor says again. I’m starting to hate that fucking word. Stable. Like that means anything while she’s still unconscious.My gaze stays fixed on her face. Still too pale. Still bruised. Still not awake. “Has she moved?” I ask.Sophia crosses her arms. “Not since earlier.”Not enough. Not nearly enough. The doctor finishes checking the monitor and steps back carefully, cl

Elena Pregnant. The word echoes through my head over and over again, but it doesn’t settle properly. It just keeps crashing into me. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.I stare at Cillian like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. The room suddenly feels too small. Too warm. Too loud. The monitor beside me keeps beeping steadily, but the sound feels distant now, muffled behind the rushing in my ears.“No,” I whisper automatically.Not because I don’t believe him. Because I can’t process it. Cillian’s expression doesn’t change. Still too controlled. Too calm. “You’re around six weeks.”Six weeks. My hand moves instinctively toward my stomach before I can stop it. The movement is small. Weak. But it freezes both of us instantly. My palm presses lightly against the blanket covering me. Nothing feels different. Nothing feels real.“Oh my G

ElenaI wake up to warmth. Not pain this time. Not fear. Warmth. For a second, I stay still, eyes closed, letting myself feel it before reality crashes back in. Something heavy rests against the side of the bed. A hand wrapped around mine. My breathing slows instinctively. Cillian. The realization settles softly through me. Safe.I open my eyes slowly. The room is dim again, rain still tapping lightly against the windows. The clock near the monitor reads just after three in the morning. Everything aches. But less. Still painful. Still tight when I breathe too deeply. But manageable. Barely.My gaze drifts immediately toward him. And my chest tightens. Cillian is asleep. Actually asleep. Half sitting in the chair beside my bed, head tilted slightly toward me, one hand still holding mine tightly, even unconscious. I stare at him quietly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. Not guarded. Not cold. Not dangerous. Just… exhausted.His face looks harder when he sleeps, somehow

CillianThe doctor says she can shower. Carefully. Quickly. No stress. No strain. I nearly tell him to go fuck himself when he says that last part. Because Elena is stressed now.She’s bruises and nightmares and stubbornness wrapped in skin too soft for the things she survived. And somehow she still looks at me like I’m worth trusting.I stand near the bathroom doorway while Sophia explains the medication schedule for the third time.“Elena gets dizzy if she stands too long,” she says, glaring directly at me like I personally invented gravity. “And she needs help.”“I gathered that.”Sophia’s eyes narrow. “She’s not fine just because she’s arguing again.”“I know.”That answer catches her off guard slightly. Good. Because I do know. I know every time Elena winces when she thinks nobody sees it. I know the difference between her fake smile and her real one now. I know she wakes up terrified every time she falls too deeply asleep. And I know if she asks for help, it means she’s already