All Chapters of The Disgraced Biker Princess as His Mafia Pet : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Lena's POV “One!” I gasped, my back arched as his palm came down my backside again, each one harder than the last.“Two.”“Three.”“Four…” my legs trembled at the pressure and the intensity but Nikolai had no thought of stopping and I was certain I wouldn't be able to sit for at least a few days. “Fucking count, Lena!” His gruff voice snapped me out of my trance and I clenched my fists, reminding myself that the longer I drag this, the more unhinged Nikolai gets and I knew I was fast approaching my physical limit.“Nikolai, please. I get—” A hard strike caught me off immediately, letting my plea hang in the air.“Five!” I shrieked, my head pressed against the soft mattress as I tried to suppress my voice. It went on and at the last count, I could already feel the burn and the aching feeling on my backside. “Twelve!” I fell back on the

Lena's POV “I don't know…” I shook my head. “You hurt me, Nikolai. You treated me like I was never important to you. Do you even love me?” I asked, my voice broken in despair. Nikolai pulled back, his eyes still filled with guilt as he shook his head. “You're important to me, Lena. I never meant to hurt—” “Don't say that!” I pushed him off, getting down from the bed. “Don't you dare claim you never meant to hurt me. Because I begged you, Nikolai. I begged you!” Turning on my heels, I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door. I rested against the door, my heart pounding as I waited for him to follow after me but that was just my wishful thinking because I heard nothing, no sound of footsteps. I slowly calmed myself, finally rationalising my thoughts. My body ached, especially my backside and my pussy. I still couldn't be

Nikolai's POV My hold tightened on her shoulders as I tried to calm the emotions wrecking my body. I slowly dropped my hands when I felt her stiff, clearly terrified that I'd hurt her.It became more palpable. The trauma I had caused her had left a scar on her heart that she wouldn't easily forget. Which meant I couldn't convince her to stay and if I used force on her, she'd drift into isolation, hiding from me and that light around her that I had fallen for would completely disappear. No. I couldn't push her further away from. I couldn't use my hands to destroy her and break her more. I had to let her go. I needed to let her go in order to move on, to heal and to keep that light around her alive. Sighing as I came to the decision, I nodded slowly. Chest tightened as the words lingered on the tip of my tongue. “Alright then. Let's get divorced. Right now, if that's what you want.” I could see the shock and disbelief in

Lena's POV The air in the office instantly turned to ice.I stared at the lawyer, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as the weight of my own question hung in the quiet room. "Was it Nikolai’s father?" I pressed, my voice barely more than a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut through the heavy silence. "Was the previous Capo the one who stopped you from filing her papers? Is that why she never escaped?"The lawyer looked visibly shaken. His hands trembled as he shuffled the legal documents on the desk, refusing to meet my eyes. He cleared his throat nervously, a sweat-sheened pale mask of worry. "Mrs. Volkova... it is entirely unnecessary to dredge up the past," he stammered, his voice laced with a frantic edge. "What happened decades ago has no bearing on our current proceedings. We should focus on constructing a more viable, legally sound justification for this dissolution—something the syndicate council will accept without friction.""The grounds she stated are mor

Lena's POV I sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, my fingers still resting on the polished wood, watching the sudden, brilliant transformation on Lena’s face.Her smile was an unexpected light in a room that had felt like a tomb for days. The heavy, suffocating cloud of our shared trauma, the looming shadow of the divorce papers arriving at dawn, the memory of blood on the subterranean concrete, it all seemed to suspend itself in the air, held at bay by the genuine, sparkling curiosity in her eyes.The request was so wildly out of place in our world that my brain struggled to process it for a second. Men like me were not supposed to have childhoods, let alone photo albums documenting them. In the syndicate, softness was an invitation for slaughter, and sentimentality was a flaw to be pruned away early. Yet, beneath the stoic mask I wore every hour of the day, a sudden wave of uncertainty wash