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Chapter 11: Caught Between Wolves
Last Updated:
2025-02-16 18:13:35
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Mrs. Fletcher, ever the guardian, had noticed that something must have happened. “You look like you’re waiting for something,” she said one evening.Elena sipped her tea, staring at the rain against the window. “Maybe I am.”She was waiting. For the next storm.It finally came in the form of a message. A single text on a burner phone she didn’t recognize. Elena stared at the message on her phone, her fingers tightening around the device.Lorenzo Valenti: Come to me, cara. I have an offer you won’t refuse. A shot at your freedom. Elena’s breath caught.Lorenzo Valenti.Another devil. One who had offered her an escape before.The words were laced with intrigue, with the promise of something dangerous—something she wasn’t sure she could afford to ignore.She exhaled sharply, her pulse quickening. Every instinct screamed at her to stay away, to not entangle herself further with yet another powerful man who played by his own ruthless rules. And yet, Lorenzo had resources. He had influence
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Nico Castellano had been tracking Elena’s phone since the moment she left.His black SUV sped through the city streets, his grip tightening on the wheel when the signal finally stopped moving.Something was wrong.He pulled up to the restaurant’s back alley, heart hammering as his headlights illuminated the carnage. Lorenzo’s abandoned car was still running, doors flung open. A dead body slumped over the steering wheel.Blood splattered across the pavement.But Elena was gone.Nico’s breath came fast and sharp as he stepped out of the SUV, gun drawn.Shit.He had been too late.With gritted teeth, he pulled out his phone and dialed.The call connected on the first ring.Damien.“She’s gone,” Nico said, voice grim. “Lorenzo has her.”---Lorenzo’s phone buzzed on the dashboard.One glance at the screen and his jaw tightened.He handed it to her. “Answer it.”Elena hesitated before pressing the button.A voice sliced through the silence.“Where the hell is she?”Elena’s breath caught.D
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The moment Damien stormed into Lorenzo’s penthouse, Elena knew it was over.Lorenzo, ever the composed strategist, simply leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink with the ease of a man who expected this.“You’re making a mistake,” Lorenzo mused, watching as Damien’s men surrounded the space.“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Damien bit out, his voice lethal. His eyes, however, were locked on Elena.She stood near the window, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.“Elena,” Damien said, his voice a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something raw. “Let’s go.”Elena didn’t move.Lorenzo smirked. “Seems she has a mind of her own.”Damien’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his presence suffocating. “Elena.”She hated how easily her body reacted to his voice, to the authority in it. But she wasn’t some possession to be dragged around at his whim.Lorenzo, ever the instigator, took a slow sip of his drink before murmuring, “Do you even know why she’s here?”Damien’
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Elena stirred slowly, her body still tangled in the lingering warmth of Damien’s sheets. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to exist in the illusion—wrapped in the scent of him, her skin still humming from the night before.The quiet before the storm.But reality crashed back in.Draco. The danger. The impossible situation she was trapped in.Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head slightly. Damien lay beside her, his bare chest rising and falling in steady breaths, his features relaxed in a way they never were when he was awake.She had seen him like this once before—before everything had shattered between them. Before betrayals and bloodshed. Before she had run.Her heart clenched.This wasn’t real.It couldn’t be.Carefully, she started to move, untangling herself from the sheets and from him. But the moment she shifted—Damien’s arm tightened around her waist.“Leaving already?” His voice was rough with sleep, his grip possessive even in half-consciousness.Elena
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Elena didn’t hesitate.The moment Nico’s words settled in her mind—“Maybe you should be asking what else he’s hiding from you”—she turned on her heel and stormed toward Damien’s office.Her pulse was a steady drumbeat of anger and something else, something more dangerous. Doubt.She shoved open the heavy double doors without knocking.Damien sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other skimming over a stack of documents. He didn’t flinch at her abrupt entrance, nor did he glance up immediately. But the slight twitch in his jaw told her he was fully aware of her presence.Elena didn’t give him time to react.“What aren’t you telling me?”Damien finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He was unreadable—calm, composed, dangerous.“You’re going to have to be more specific, tesoro,” he said smoothly, setting the whiskey down with an infuriating lack of urgency.Elena’s hands curled into fists at her sides.“Nico said I should be asking you that.” She too
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The rain hammered down on the pavement, a relentless curtain of cold that soaked through Elena Devereaux’s thin coat. She pulled the fabric tighter around herself, her breath visible in the chilly night air as she hurried toward Inferno. The club stood like a beacon of temptation and sin against the darkened street, its glowing red neon sign casting eerie reflections on the wet asphalt.Her heels splashed through puddles as she quickened her pace. She was already late. Draco’s asthma attack had come out of nowhere, forcing her to cradle her son until his small body finally relaxed. The hospital bills were piling up again, and this job was the only thing standing between them and financial ruin.With a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy employee entrance door and stepped inside.Heat and noise swallowed her whole. The air inside was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, alcohol, and desperation. Strobe lights flashed over a writhing crowd of bodies on the dance floor, illumina
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Elena paced the length of the private suite, her nerves stretched thin.The heavy bass from Inferno pulsed through the glass walls, but the club below might as well have been a world away. Up here, trapped in Damien Moretti’s domain, silence thickened the air, pressing against her like an unseen force.She needed to leave.Her heart was still racing from their kiss. From the way her body had instinctively responded to him, despite everything. Despite the years. Despite the betrayal.What the hell had she been thinking?The door swung open, and Damien strode in, his expression unreadable.Elena’s spine stiffened. “I told you—I’m working. I can’t be here.”Damien didn’t respond immediately. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed, studying her like a puzzle he intended to solve.“You still have a temper,” he finally murmured, a ghost of amusement flickering in his dark eyes.Her hands clenched at her sides. “And you still think you can control me.”“I don’t thi
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The moment Damien disappeared through the door, the air in the private suite seemed to thin.Elena pressed her fingers to her lips, her breath unsteady.What the hell had just happened?Damien was back. Not as the reckless, arrogant young man she once loved, but as someone far more dangerous. Someone who now owned Inferno.She turned toward the glass wall overlooking the club. From here, she could see the main floor—a blur of flashing lights, swaying bodies, and the endless thrum of music.But Damien was nowhere in sight.The memory of his kiss still burned on her lips, and she hated that her body had responded to him so easily. It was reckless. Dangerous.A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.Tony, her manager, poked his head inside, his face pale. “Elena, you should go home. Now.”Something in his tone made her stomach twist.“What’s going on?”He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as if someone might be listening. “Some guys came looking for trouble. Boss is handling
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Elena didn’t hesitate.The moment Nico’s words settled in her mind—“Maybe you should be asking what else he’s hiding from you”—she turned on her heel and stormed toward Damien’s office.Her pulse was a steady drumbeat of anger and something else, something more dangerous. Doubt.She shoved open the heavy double doors without knocking.Damien sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other skimming over a stack of documents. He didn’t flinch at her abrupt entrance, nor did he glance up immediately. But the slight twitch in his jaw told her he was fully aware of her presence.Elena didn’t give him time to react.“What aren’t you telling me?”Damien finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He was unreadable—calm, composed, dangerous.“You’re going to have to be more specific, tesoro,” he said smoothly, setting the whiskey down with an infuriating lack of urgency.Elena’s hands curled into fists at her sides.“Nico said I should be asking you that.” She too
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Elena stirred slowly, her body still tangled in the lingering warmth of Damien’s sheets. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to exist in the illusion—wrapped in the scent of him, her skin still humming from the night before.The quiet before the storm.But reality crashed back in.Draco. The danger. The impossible situation she was trapped in.Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head slightly. Damien lay beside her, his bare chest rising and falling in steady breaths, his features relaxed in a way they never were when he was awake.She had seen him like this once before—before everything had shattered between them. Before betrayals and bloodshed. Before she had run.Her heart clenched.This wasn’t real.It couldn’t be.Carefully, she started to move, untangling herself from the sheets and from him. But the moment she shifted—Damien’s arm tightened around her waist.“Leaving already?” His voice was rough with sleep, his grip possessive even in half-consciousness.Elena
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The moment Damien stormed into Lorenzo’s penthouse, Elena knew it was over.Lorenzo, ever the composed strategist, simply leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink with the ease of a man who expected this.“You’re making a mistake,” Lorenzo mused, watching as Damien’s men surrounded the space.“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Damien bit out, his voice lethal. His eyes, however, were locked on Elena.She stood near the window, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.“Elena,” Damien said, his voice a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something raw. “Let’s go.”Elena didn’t move.Lorenzo smirked. “Seems she has a mind of her own.”Damien’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his presence suffocating. “Elena.”She hated how easily her body reacted to his voice, to the authority in it. But she wasn’t some possession to be dragged around at his whim.Lorenzo, ever the instigator, took a slow sip of his drink before murmuring, “Do you even know why she’s here?”Damien’
Bound by His Desire: The Mafia King’s Mistress & Secret Heir Chapter 13: If you don’t bring her back right now, I’ll rip you apart
Nico Castellano had been tracking Elena’s phone since the moment she left.His black SUV sped through the city streets, his grip tightening on the wheel when the signal finally stopped moving.Something was wrong.He pulled up to the restaurant’s back alley, heart hammering as his headlights illuminated the carnage. Lorenzo’s abandoned car was still running, doors flung open. A dead body slumped over the steering wheel.Blood splattered across the pavement.But Elena was gone.Nico’s breath came fast and sharp as he stepped out of the SUV, gun drawn.Shit.He had been too late.With gritted teeth, he pulled out his phone and dialed.The call connected on the first ring.Damien.“She’s gone,” Nico said, voice grim. “Lorenzo has her.”---Lorenzo’s phone buzzed on the dashboard.One glance at the screen and his jaw tightened.He handed it to her. “Answer it.”Elena hesitated before pressing the button.A voice sliced through the silence.“Where the hell is she?”Elena’s breath caught.D
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Mrs. Fletcher, ever the guardian, had noticed that something must have happened. “You look like you’re waiting for something,” she said one evening.Elena sipped her tea, staring at the rain against the window. “Maybe I am.”She was waiting. For the next storm.It finally came in the form of a message. A single text on a burner phone she didn’t recognize. Elena stared at the message on her phone, her fingers tightening around the device.Lorenzo Valenti: Come to me, cara. I have an offer you won’t refuse. A shot at your freedom. Elena’s breath caught.Lorenzo Valenti.Another devil. One who had offered her an escape before.The words were laced with intrigue, with the promise of something dangerous—something she wasn’t sure she could afford to ignore.She exhaled sharply, her pulse quickening. Every instinct screamed at her to stay away, to not entangle herself further with yet another powerful man who played by his own ruthless rules. And yet, Lorenzo had resources. He had influence
Bound by His Desire: The Mafia King’s Mistress & Secret Heir Chapter 11: Caught Between Wolves
The drive back to Draco was tense.Elena sat in the passenger seat of Nico’s sleek black car, hands clenched in her lap. Rain streaked across the windshield, blurring the city beyond. The silence between them was thick, filled with things neither dared to say.Nico had barely spoken since they left the safe house. His grip on the wheel was firm, his expression unreadable.“You don’t have to do this,” Elena finally said, breaking the quiet.Nico scoffed. “You think I’d let you walk into Moretti’s arms without a fight?”She turned to him, searching his face. “This isn’t about Damien.”“No,” he admitted. “It’s about you.”Elena exhaled, looking away. The lights of the city flickered through the rain, casting shadows across the dashboard.For all her resistance, she was still caught in this world. A world ruled by men who played games with blood and power.But there was no game when it came to Draco.As soon as they pulled up to her brownstone, Elena was already unbuckling her seatbelt.“
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Elena sat on the plush navy-blue couch, the crackling fireplace casting long shadows across the room. The air smelled of aged whiskey, burning wood, and something faintly familiar—Nico’s cologne, rich and smooth, with just a trace of spice.It was strange.For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.Unlike Damien’s penthouse, where every inch of space felt suffocatingly controlled, Nico’s safe house had a different energy. It wasn’t just the dim lighting or the warm tones of the décor. It was the lack of expectation—the absence of invisible chains wrapped around her wrists.She wasn’t sure if that made Nico less dangerous. Or more.Elena pulled her legs up, tucking them beneath her as she studied him. He stood by the bar, his sleeves rolled up, fingers tracing the rim of his glass.“This isn’t what I expected,” she admitted.Nico glanced at her. “What did you expect?”“A dungeon,” she replied dryly. “Or maybe some extravagant prison to match your reputation.”His lips
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The drive out of London had been a blur of headlights, speeding asphalt, and silence so heavy it was suffocating. The city had faded behind them, replaced by the vast countryside, where the roads wound through dense forests and sprawling estates.Elena had barely spoken since they’d left the penthouse. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms folded, her mind replaying everything that had happened in the last few hours.A sniper.Shattered glass.A name whispered by a dying man—DeLuca.Damien’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white. His entire body radiated tension, a barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface. He had said little, only the occasional command to Dante or Marco through the earpiece.The safe house loomed ahead, a sprawling estate nestled deep in the countryside. High walls and security cameras lined the perimeter, and armed men stood at the gate, their expressions grim.Elena swallowed hard.This wasn’t protection.It was a prison.As the
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Elena’s pulse thundered in her ears as Nico’s words settled in the thick air between them."Give me the key, and I’ll help you escape him."Damien’s expression was carved from stone, but the heat in his dark eyes was anything but cold. He was waiting—for her answer, for her betrayal, for confirmation that she had been planning to leave.Nico, on the other hand, was a picture of ease. He leaned back against the counter, his smirk lazy, but his gaze sharp. He was enjoying this, watching her squirm between them.She forced herself to take a breath. Think, Elena. Think.If she handed over the key now, she’d be making a choice—aligning herself with Nico against Damien. But could she trust him? Did she really believe he’d help her escape without his own agenda?She knew better.“I don’t have it,” she finally said, voice steady despite the storm inside her.Nico’s smirk widened slightly, like he expected her hesitation. “Lying to me already? That’s not a good start to our partnership.”“Ther
