Calavera: The Mafia's Caged Bride Novels & Stories

Their bodies pressed together, hands flying, clothes coming off fast. I covered my mouth with both hands, nausea rising in my throat. This was the man I was supposed to marry. This was the man who might be my first. Lorenzo De Luca, mob prince, heartless bastard… and apparently, a sex-crazed maniac who is cheating in his fiancee. I couldn’t breathe. Their groans echoed through the room. I shut my eyes, praying—begging—they wouldn’t hear me. Because if they opened this door…

“Siena, your life is in danger. This isn’t something you can think over. Your husband is a monster—the Italian Don.” He lowered his voice, sharp and cutting. “He’s marrying another woman in two days. And after that… you’ll be disposed of.” His gaze locked onto hers. “Do you understand how severe the situation you’re in really is?” He meant to frighten her. But she didn’t flinch. Instead, her lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “Not only my husband,” she said quietly. “My father seems to be one too.” She still remembered Cristiano’s words: the revenge was born from her father’s unforgivable sin, a crime so monstrous that the Italian mafia had abducted a newborn girl because of it. So she

A tilt of the head, with a murmured, “My wife.” Each time he says it, the lie tastes more like a curse. He greets a handful of men in tailored suits and smiles laced with secrets. Then, he guides me toward a group of women standing near a tower of champagne glasses. Mob wives. Of course. They turn to me in unison, every expression a rehearsed smile stretched too tight. “Ladies,” Hale says smoothly. “This is Calistra. I’ll be back for her shortly. Mingle.” And just like that, he abandons me.

I took the last car with Rafa and two other ghosts who have hands that don’t flinch. “You coming?” Marco asked once, half grin and half dare. I looked at him, tasted the carnage and the price. “I’m coming for the throat.” We hit the city like a storm. Phone calls, plates traced, feeds found, a driver talked — the world gave up small truths: the SUV had crossed the bridge, took a service road, and pulled into Crawford’s outer estate. Not the main house , a smaller compound, stone walls, men in suits pacing like wolves.

"Do you, Marco fucking Powell, take me, Dante Russo, to be your husband… in sickness… and in health?" I clawed at his wrist, panic hurrying me as black spots spun in front of my eyes. "Yes!" I wheezed. "Yes, I do!" His hand loosened, and I pitched forward, sucking in air like I'd been drowning. The officiant didn't flinch. What the hell was this place? I barely had time to recover before the man said, "You may now kiss the bride." My head jerked up, eyes wide. "The what—"

Serena's POV "What are you not telling me? I demanded. Gabriel chuckled nervously and stood up. "I just don't want you to get yourself in trouble. Adrian is the head of the Mafia family in Sicily which means he's a very dangerous man. He's got eyes everywhere and will not be happy to find you looking in his business. So I don't think you should keep sniffing around." He explained. I exhaled in frustration. "But if he knows something about my father's death, then I want to know it too." I protested.

- As. — I also took a shot in the shoulder to get him to say yes. I won't accept a "no". — I get closer and look him straight in the eye. — My husband disappeared... I joined the mafia for him, I wanted to be free... free... — I laugh... — I wasn't. I trapped myself in this world for him. — I say without another smile. — And what I did to you today, I will do to anyone who refuses to do what I know is necessary to get you back. I'll do anything... but I'm a nice person. — I touch his face and take the dagger from the armchair. — Say "yes" and I'll come out as your ally; Say "no" and I'll make you great slut food. Simple... — I play with the dagger in my hand and look at Caccini. —What do you

If I say sorry—sorry for all the times I didn’t listen, sorry for leaving toys on the stairs—maybe they’ll come back. But the coffins only sank deeper. Around me, people whispered, voices buzzing like insects. Too soft to understand, yet sharp enough to cut. “How tragic.” “So young.” “An accident, they say.” “The girl… poor thing. Losing both parents like that.” Poor thing. The words made bile rise in my throat. Their eyes weren’t kind. They were curious, hungry, waiting for a spectacle. A mafia funeral is more than grief.

"Your father and I—we had a pact. A blood oath. He wanted the Rivera name to mean something more than just muscle. He wanted a dynasty. You marry her, or you walk out of here and we go to war. Your choice." The room smelled of salt air and expensive floor wax. Beyond the heavy drapes of the Cruz Bay Estate, the Atlantic crashed against the jagged rocks. This place was a mausoleum. The cracks in the marble and the peeling gold leaf on the ceiling told the story. The Cruzes were bleeding out. They had the history, but I had the fire. I looked at the shadow in the corner. Marco Alvarez, my driver, stood motionless. He was a ghost with a Glock.

Camila’s POV The moment I stepped into the war room, the air seemed to tighten with anticipation. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I didn't feel small, but I wasn't the broken girl I had been before every pair of eyes turned to me. I wasn't a mafia lord's defenseless bride. The chaos had changed me; I was no longer the woman who wept in private.the lies and the betrayals. Now, I was something more powerful.