All Chapters of Ruined by The Mafia Heir : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

AREŚ The bag swings hard on its chain as my fists connect again and again, the impact shuddering through my arms. My knuckles have split beneath the wraps, blood smearing across the vinyl, and every punch sends fresh pain tearing through my injured shoulder. I keep going anyway. Pain is easy. Familiar. It has a source, a shape, something I can understand. Everything else inside me is harder to reach.Congratulations.That single word has been circling my head since breakfast, louder than the thud of leather beneath my fists. It wasn’t a toast. It wasn’t even a goodbye. It was meant to hurt, and she knew exactly where to place it.Luciano’s voice follows close behind.Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you let a girl close?Seraphina.The girl who once looked at me like there was something in me worth saving, right up until she realised what I really wa

AREŚ “I want a name.”I exhale slowly, keeping my gaze on hers. “You already have it.”Her brows pull together. “What?”“Alessandro Romano.”For a moment, she just looks at me, confusion clouding her face while she tries to make the connection. Then I see it happen. Her eyes widen slightly, and the colour begins to drain from her cheeks.“Romano?” she asks. “Th—the man you killed?”“Yes.”Her lips part, and she stares at me like she can’t quite process what I’ve just admitted. “That’s why you killed him. Because he’s the man who ordered the hit on Matteo.”“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”Jordyn’s frowns, her blue eyes searching mine.“He’s the reason your parents never made it ba

JORDYN This moment will go down as the most imprudent moment of my entire existence, but I don't care. Because the moment his lips touched mine, I forgot that he's a killer. I forgot about Romano. Burning down Eden. The men he left half-dead on the floor. The Reaper. All gone. Areś doesn’t move. His mouth stays against mine, warm and still, like his body hasn’t caught up with what’s happening. I can feel the shock in him and the disbelief, and for a moment neither of us does anything except stand there with our lips pressed together.Then his hands close around my upper arms, and he pulls me back just enough to break the kiss.I open my eyes and find he's staring down at me like I’ve just done something completely insane. His breathing is heavier now, his brows drawn together, and there’s something almost wary in the wa

JORDYN I wait for him to stop me. Inwardly begging him to say something. One second.Two.Nothing.The disappointment comes so quickly it almost knocks the air out of me. I should have expected it. I gave him the choice, and he made it. Maybe part of me really believed that if I put everything in front of him, if I made him understand that this was the last time I was going to chase him, he would finally meet me halfway.He doesn’t.So I nod once and turn away before he can see how much it hurts and walk towards the door.Each step feels heavier than the last. By the time my fingers curl around the handle, my throat aches with everything I refuse to say. I press it down and pull the door open.It barely opens before Areś’s arm appears above my head. His palm slams flat against the door, forcing it shut before I can pull it open any further.A startled breath slips f

AREŚThe warehouse reeks of a potent mix of oil, rust, and blood, a stench so thick it clings to your skin. It’s the kind of hidden reserve no one stumbles upon by chance. Nestled behind neglected shipyards and encircled by chain-link fences, it's a zone no cop would dare enter without ample reinforcement. That's precisely why I chose this location. It’s the perfect stage for a dramatic statement.Which is exactly why I brought them here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that revenge isn’t enough...you have to make it memorable.Suspended by his wrists, the Ferrara runner hangs like a broken marionette, his shirt drenched in blood, which has dried into a crusty, cracked map across his temple. He teeters on the edge of consciousness, his head drooping forward, yet he clings to life. For now.Dante stands to the side, arms folded across his chest, his jaw like granite with tension.“You’re sure he didn’t talk?” I inquire, my voice a low, unwavering murmur.Dante gives a s