All Chapters of Forced bride of mafia king: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lena’s POV I don’t stop running until my bedroom door slams shut behind me. My chest burns. I press my back to the wood like it’ll keep the image out. It doesn’t. Blood. There was so much blood on his hands, on his shirt, on the concrete, and even on his face — God, his face. I can’t forget that empty look in his eyes, like shooting a man mid-sentence was nothing. I knew what Dante did. My father’s hands weren’t clean either. I grew up with guards, with whispers, with funerals. But knowing and seeing are different beasts. I curl into myself on the edge of the bed. My father’s face flashes in my head, then Dante’s. Both covered in red. The door opens. Dante. He’s clean now. Black button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, no blood, and no gun. If I hadn’t seen it, I’d never believe it happened twenty minutes ago. He crosses the room. Stops in front of me. “You have to get used to seeing that.” His voice is cold. He tilts my chin up wit

Lena’s POV I’m standing there, gun in my hand. Shaking as the metal slicks against my palm. Mom. Marco. Mom. Marco. Back and forth. Back and forth. I can’t. God, I can’t choose. Kill one to save the other? That’s not a choice. That’s damnation. I turn to Dante. My voice breaks. “I can’t— I can’t possibly choose one.” His face doesn’t change. “Then I will.” No. My arm moves before I think. The gun swings up. Points at him. Center mass. The room freezes. The guard who dragged Marco in has his weapon out in a heartbeat, aimed at my head. Dante doesn’t even blink. He turns on the guard instead, voice like ice. “Put it down.” “Sir, she—” “She isn’t going to harm me.” Dante steps toward me. “Are you, Lena?” Another step. Another. Until his chest meets the muzzle. He’s right. I can’t, I can’t pull the trigger. My fingers go numb. The gun clatters to the desk. Dante picks it up before the echo dies. The shot is deafeni

Lena’s POV: I stretch, then still. There’s a mouth at my neck. Warm. Deliberate. I open my eyes slowly. Dante. His head is buried against my throat, teeth grazing just enough to sting. Marking me. Something shifted last night. In him. In me. And for the first time since he dragged me into this world, I don’t hate it. “Morning,” I murmur, interrupting him. “Morning, mi amata,” he says, and kisses me once more like he’s sealing the word in. Then he’s up. Naked. Walking away from the bed. I miss the weight of him instantly. “As much as I’d like to keep you in this bed all day,” he says, pulling on his pants, “I have work.” I sit up straighter. The sheet slips. His eyes drop to my chest and darken. I yank the blanket higher. He smirks like he caught me. I hate that it makes my stomach flip. While he buttons his shirt, I stare at the ceiling. What the hell am I supposed to do all day? Wander this gilded cage? Count the hours until he comes back to rem

Lena’s POV I cling to Dante, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. He strokes my hair, one hand cradling the back of my head while I curl into his lap in the backseat. The heat from him is the only thing keeping the cold from swallowing me whole. My throat is raw. Words feel like glass. But I force them out anyway. “Dante.” His head turns from the window instantly. All of his focus snaps to me. “Is Trisha okay?” My voice cracks. He frowns, like he’s searching his memory. Like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about. “My friend,” I push, panic rising. “She was shot. At the store. Is she— is she okay?” Dante’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is too careful. Too measured. “I don’t know yet,” Dante says. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now. Just focus on yourself. Breathe for me, okay?” He’s dismissing it. But I can’t breathe. Because I saw her eyes. I saw them go still. I

Dante’s pov The drive back from my uncle’s house on the other side of the estate drags. I sit in the back with Ricardo, jaw tight. Someone tried to kill Lena. They’re still breathing. That’s a problem I intend to fix. “Double the men on the search,” I tell him. “I want names by morning. Someone touched what’s mine and is still breathing that’s a slap to my face.” “I’m doing my best, boss,” Ricardo says. “Then do better.” The car stops. I’m out before he can answer. Maria’s waiting inside. “How was she today?” She wrings her hands. “Not good. Her mother came. They argued. She hasn’t left the room since.” Something sharp twists in my chest. “Did she eat?” “Not after the argument.” I nod and head upstairs. Lena’s curled up on our bed, drowning in the blanket. She looks small. So breakable. “How are you?” I keep my voice low, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She startles, then softens when she sees me. “You’re back. How did your meeting go?” Meeti