All Chapters of The Underboss's Kingdom : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

My head throbbed. My wrists burned. My throat was dry. But I'm awake. I have to stay awake.Voices drifted in from the hallway, Juan’s low and controlled, Rafe’s deeper and annoyed. I leaned as far as the ropes allowed, trying to catch every word.“…she’s at the Ricci safehouse,” Rafe said.My stomach dropped. Juan exhaled sharply. “And she’s annoyed the plan isn’t working?”“She said they’re all acting like one big happy family,” Rafe replied. “Not blaming Sara. Not turning on her.”I closed my eyes. Good. Good. At least that part wasn’t falling apart.Juan scoffed. “Idiots. All of them. I thought the Riccis would tear her apart the second they realized she brought danger to their doorstep.”Rafe shrugged. “They’re sticking together.”Juan muttered something in Spanish I couldn’t make out. Then a phone rang. He answered immediately. “Letta.”Letta. Of course it was Letta. Her voice carried through the hall, sharp, irritated, whiny.“I don’t understand why this isn’t working,” she com

Everything was finally falling into place. Rafe stood near the table, loading a magazine with slow, deliberate movements. He wasn’t smiling. He rarely did. But tonight he looked even more uneasy than usual.“You really think she’s coming?” he asked.I adjusted my jacket in the cracked mirror on the wall. “She said she would.”Rafe grunted. “Too easy.”I smirked. “Sometimes things are easy when you’re smarter than everyone else.” He didn’t look convinced. I didn’t care. Sara was finally doing what she should’ve done years ago, choosing me. Choosing survival. Choosing the only person who ever understood her.Behind us, Marco shifted in the chair, the ropes creaking. He looked exhausted, pale, but still trying to glare at me like he had any power left. Pathetic. I walked over and crouched in front of him.“You hear that?” I asked softly. “She’s coming to meet me.”Marco’s jaw tightened. “She’s not coming alone.”I chuckled. “She said she would.”“She lied.”I leaned in closer. “No. She’s

The SUV was silent except for Marco’s ragged breathing. Roc held him upright in the backseat, whispering to him in Russian, Italian, and English, voice shaking every time Marco’s eyes fluttered. We were halfway back to the safehouse when Marco stirred. “Roc…” His voice was barely a whisper. “Where’s… Letta?”Roc frowned. “Letta? Why the hell are you worried about Letta?”Wolf turned in his seat. “Yeah, man. Why her?”Even Papà looked confused. Marco swallowed hard, wincing. “Did… did Sara get the clue?”My stomach tightened. “What clue?”“In the video,” Marco whispered. “I said… don’t let her leave again.”Roc blinked. “I thought you meant Sara.”Marco shook his head weakly. “No. Not Sara. Letta.”Bruce stiffened in the front passenger seat. “My daughter? Why would you...”Marco’s voice cracked. “She’s working with Juan.”The car went dead silent. Roc froze. “No. No, she wouldn’t...”“She doesn’t know who he really is,” Marco said quickly. “I don’t think she knows what he’s done. But

How the hell did Sara figure it out? I paced the length of the room, jaw tight, hands clenched behind my back. The cheap motel carpet scratched under my boots, the buzzing fluorescent light above me flickering like it was mocking me. Letta shouldn’t have been a problem. She didn’t know my real name. She didn’t know who I was. She didn’t know anything except what I fed her. So how did Sara... Sara...see through it?Rafe stood near the door, arms crossed, watching me with that careful expression he used when he wasn’t sure if I was about to explode or not. “What do you want to do now?” he asked. “We already sent the men to St. Joe like you said.”I stopped pacing.St. Joe. A distraction. A test. A trap. And Ricci still didn’t fall for it.Rafe cleared his throat. “Boss… what’s next? What’s Plan C?”I stared at him. Plan C. I didn’t have one. Not yet. Because none of this made sense.Ricci wasn’t smart enough to outmaneuver me. He never had been. He was muscle, not mind. Luck, not strategy

Something felt wrong. I didn’t know what it was at first, a shift in the air, a silence where there shouldn’t have been one. But I’d lived too many years in this life to ignore instinct. And my instinct was screaming. I looked around the group. Kat and Ciara were arguing over which brand of pasta sauce tasted more “authentically Italian.” Abuela and Nonna were bickering in Spanish and Italian about which dessert we should make for Marco’s welcome‑home dinner.But one voice was missing. One presence. One girl. I straightened. “Where’s Sara?”The women froze.Kat blinked. “She was just here.”Ciara looked around. “She said she’d be right back.”My stomach dropped. “Right back from where?”The Ricci men trailing us stiffened. One of them, Nico, stepped forward. “She went to the bathroom.”I turned slowly. “Who went with her?” Silence. Not one of them answered. Not one of them met my eyes. I felt my blood pressure spike. “You let her go alone?”Nico swallowed. “We didn’t think...”“That’s