Todos los capítulos de The Mafia billionaire's Revenge Bride : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

Chapter 41: The Lock Is Already InsideThe morphine was a lying bastard with a velvet tongue. It wrapped the white-hot spike in my side in soft lies and whispered that I could still shoot, still breathe, still tell the universe to go fuck itself with a rusty bayonet. The blood knew better. It kept seeping through the fresh packing, warm and sticky, soaking the waistband of what used to be pants and pooling under my bare ass on the cot like it had a personal grudge.I stayed down. Barely. Sidearm braced across my thighs, the blue emergency LEDs turning every shadow into something that wanted a piece of me. Aryan moved like the night had been built for him—silent, precise, shotgun already shouldered as he took position at the reinforced window shutters. One body already cooling outside from his first suppressed shot. Kabir had counted six heat signatures on thermal. One down. Five left. All of them professionals who didn’t waste bullets on warnings.“Talk to me, Kabir,” Aryan murmured in

Chapter 43: The Night We Chose to LiveI didn’t have time to savor the afterglow of putting the Lock down. Three more signatures were already slicing through the ridge like wolves that had caught the scent of blood and decided the hunt was personal. Kabir’s voice stayed clipped and cold in the earpiece while Aryan hauled me upright against his side. My legs were useless jelly. Every step sent a fresh sheet of fire through the packing in my side. Blood ran warm down my thigh and soaked into the waistband of the tactical pants Aryan had yanked onto me in a hurry. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt. Just the pants, the sidearm shoved into my waistband, and his own body as the only shield I had left.“Move,” he growled against my temple. “Or I carry your bleeding ass the whole way.”I moved. Barely. We slipped through the secondary exit into the denser tree line just as the first of the new signatures hit the west wall of the station. Suppressed shots cracked behind us. The reinforced shutter

Chapter 45: I Am Having Sexual Tension for LunchI woke to the rotor wash before I woke to the pain.The bird came in low and hard, a black shape punching through the gray curtain of rain like it had a personal vendetta against the mountain. Aryan’s arms locked around me tighter, one under my knees, one braced across my back just high enough to keep pressure off the dressing. Every step down that rain-slick slope was a controlled fall. Mud tried to steal his boots. Roots tried to trip him. The wound in my side flared white every time his body jarred, but the seal held. The clotting powder and the trauma gel and pure fucking spite kept the blood where it belonged.“Ninety seconds,” Kabir’s voice crackled in the earpiece, almost lost under the rising thunder of the blades. “Visual on your thermal. Stay low. Door gunner is covering the western approach. Move.”Aryan didn’t answer. He just ran.The cabin vanished behind us in a smear of wet pine and old wood. The extraction point opened u

Chapter 47: First Light and the Cost of WantingI woke to the absence of rain and the presence of something worse.Silence.The generator still hummed, low and steady, but the hammering on the roof had stopped. Grey light leaked through the narrow shutter like a reluctant confession. My side felt like someone had taken a branding iron to the dressing and then politely asked me to pretend it was fine. The deep throb from last night had thickened into a mean, constant pressure that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Every breath dragged against it. Every micro-shift of muscle reminded me that forty-eight hours had been a suggestion I had cheerfully set on fire.Aryan was already awake.I felt it before I opened my eyes—the particular stillness of a man who had been watching the door, the window, and the rise and fall of my chest for hours. His body was curved around mine the same way it had been when I fell asleep, but the arm across my stomach was careful, the hand resting just above the

Chapter 49: Keep Testing MeThe secondary site stopped being quiet the second Kabir’s voice cut through the earpiece.I was still half-dressed, skin damp, the deep, lingering throb between my thighs a living reminder of exactly how thoroughly Aryan had ended three days of forced distance. Every shift of my hips brought a slow, filthy echo of the way he’d driven into me—hard, claiming, no more careful restraint. The scar on my side stayed quiet. No sharp white flare. No wet heat spreading under the skin. Just a dull, almost polite protest when I swung my legs off the cot and reached for the nearest piece of intact clothing.Aryan was already moving like the last ten minutes of brutal, unbroken sex had never happened. Pants yanked up, tactical vest shrugged on over bare skin because the shirt I’d ripped open earlier lay in a ruined heap on the concrete. Sidearm checked. Round chambered. Spare magazines clipped with the same efficient violence he used on everything else. The man who had j