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8 - RUN
Last Updated:
2024-11-25 18:03:17
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The Mafia King's Trophy 9 - Dimming Fire
MatteoDragging Amara up the stairs, her wrist locked in my grip, I can feel her trembling. Not just from exertion—she’s exhausted from the chase—but from the realization of just how deeply she’s fucked up.The door to her room looms ahead, and I kick it open, shoving her inside before stepping in after her. She stumbles, catching herself against the bedpost, and I slam the door shut behind us, locking it for good measure.“Don’t sit,” I growl, grabbing her arm again before she can collapse onto the mattress. I yank her around to face me, pressing her back against the wall. The impact isn’t hard enough to hurt, but it sends a clear message: she’s not going anywhere.“Let me go,” she hisses, her voice sharp but shaking.I laugh, leaning in close enough that she can’t ignore my presence. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re long past that. You don’t get to call the shots in my home.”Her glare sharpens, but she stays quiet, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.“What the fuck were y
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MatteoThe morning sun barely filters through the heavy curtains as I push open her bedroom door. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still in those silk pajamas that cling just enough to make me linger a second too long before stepping inside. Her hair’s a mess, her eyes rimmed with defiance and exhaustion.She looks like hell. And yet somehow, she still manages to look like she belongs in it.“Get up,” I bark, shutting the door behind me. “We’re making a proof-of-life video. You’re going to tell your father you’re alive, and you’re going to do it without fucking it up. Got it?”Her glare cuts through the room, but she doesn’t move. “Why should I make anything easier for you?”“Because I said so,” I reply, crossing my arms. “Now, get up. I don’t have all day.”She stands slowly, her movements deliberate, her chin tilted in defiance as she takes a step closer. “And what if I don’t?”I smirk, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Then I’ll give your father a reason to worry. Maybe I’ll
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AmaraThe water scalds my skin, but I don’t move. I lay there on the cold tiles of the shower floor, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around myself as if I can hold myself together. The steady spray of water drowns out the sound of my muffled sobs, but it doesn’t stop the memories from clawing their way back in, vivid and relentless.What he did to me…My cheeks burn as I think of Matteo, of his hands on my body, of how I broke under him in the worst possible way. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat as I remember the way he smirked, the satisfaction in his eyes as he reduced me to nothing but a trembling mess.I should hate him. I do hate him.But the worst part? The part I can’t stop replaying, can’t stop hating myself for?It didn’t feel wrong.A shudder runs through me, my tears mixing with the water as I press my forehead against the cool tiles. I don’t know what’s worse—that he did it, or that my body betrayed me so completely. I shouldn’t have pushed him so far. I shouldn’t h
Last Updated : 2024-11-29The Mafia King's Trophy 12 - A Walk With The Enemy
AmaraThe garden stretches wide and pristine, every hedge and flower bed manicured to perfection. The sun is warm on my face, but it doesn’t chase away the chill lingering in my chest. Matteo walks a few steps ahead of me, silent, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. I follow begrudgingly, my bare feet brushing against the gravel as I trail him like a shadow.The air is heavy between us, filled with all the things neither of us is saying. My thoughts churn like a storm, each one darker than the last, but I keep my mouth shut. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking the silence first.We stop near the fountain, its soft trickle the only sound in the quiet garden. Matteo glances at me over his shoulder, his expression stoic as usual, and I look away, refusing to meet his gaze.The minutes stretch on, the tension thickening until it feels like I can’t breathe. Finally, I snap.“Why are we doing this?” I ask, my voice sharp and demanding.He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes
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MatteoThe door slams behind me as I leave Amara’s room, locking her in with a sharp twist of the key. My jaw is tight, and my pulse thrums with irritation. She’s a problem, but right now, she’s not the biggest one.My mother’s words still echo in my head as I make my way to the study. One of ours—gone. Entirely wiped out. I knew the Cerullis were desperate, but this? This was a declaration of war, plain and simple.The door to my father’s study is slightly ajar when I reach it, and I hear his heavy footsteps pacing inside. He rarely paces, which means one thing—this is bad. Very fucking bad.“What do we know?” I ask, my voice cutting through the silence.My father turns sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “The DeLucas,” he says, his voice low and simmering with rage. “Every last one of them. Men, women, even the fucking kids. Gone.”My stomach tightens, and I clench my fists at my sides. The DeLucas weren’t just allies—they were family. And now, they’re a goddamn massacre.
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MatteoThe house looms ahead, a grand estate wrapped in darkness and arrogance. The Vitales built this monstrosity on the backs of alliances they didn’t earn and power they didn’t deserve. Tonight, we remind them that alliances with the Cerullis come with a cost.Markus walks beside me, his steps light and purposeful, a subtle bounce in his stride like he’s heading to a party. His hands flex at his sides, his eager fingers twitching toward the Glock holstered under his jacket.“Think they know we’re coming?” Markus asks, his voice light, almost bored, as he spins a blade in his hand like a toy.“They will soon enough,” I reply, my tone clipped.He grins, a glint of something unhinged flashing in his eyes. “Good. I’m in the mood for some fireworks.”Of course, he is. Markus has always been like this. Controlled on the surface, polite even, but underneath? A goddamn psychopath, and tonight I’m letting him off the leash.“You’re enjoying this too much,” I mutter as we approach the main
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AmaraThe room is dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting long shadows against the walls. I wake with a start, a strange weight pressing on my chest, my senses prickling with unease.I sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and freeze.Matteo is standing by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the pale light. His dark hair is disheveled, his shoulders tense—and his white shirt is covered in blood.My breath catches in my throat, and I grip the edge of the blanket like it might anchor me to reality. “Matteo?” I whisper, my voice trembling.He turns slowly, his green eyes locking onto mine, sharp and unrelenting.“What… what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze heavy, unreadable. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before he finally speaks.“Go back to sleep, Amara,” he says, his tone flat, almost hollow.I don’t move. “Why are you covered in blood?”He exhal
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MatteoThe door clicks shut behind me, the sound ringing louder in my ears than it should. My chest feels tight, my hands twitching at my sides, and I can still feel the ghost of her touch—the cool, damp cloth brushing over my skin, the softness in her movements.What the fuck just happened?I drag a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the hall. Blood still stains the creases of my shirt, the metallic tang clinging to me like a second skin, but my face and hands are clean. Because of her.She didn’t have to do that. Hell, she shouldn’t have done it. But she did, and I didn’t fucking stop her.It wasn’t the defiance I’m used to from her, the fire I’ve been trying to snuff out. It wasn’t even fear, though I’ve seen plenty of that from her too. No, it was something else. Something softer, gentler, something that doesn’t belong in a place like this or with a man like me.And that’s what fucking guts me.I slam my fist against the wall, the sharp sting grounding me, pulling me out
Last Updated : 2024-12-02
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The Mafia King's Trophy 46 - I Gave You The Last Part Of Me
AmaraI wake slowly, my body heavy and warm, cocooned in a tangle of sheets and the steady, grounding heat of Matteo pressed against me. His arm is draped over my waist, holding me against his chest like he’s afraid I’ll slip away in the night.The memories from the night before rush back in a wave, and my cheeks heat as I bury my face into the pillow. I gave myself to him. My first. Matteo Dragonetti. And he was…Gentle.The thought surprises me. Matteo, who has only ever been cruel, cold, and possessive, was careful with me. His touch, his words, everything was different last night.But even as my body feels sated, my heart twists with anxiety.What happens now?I gave him the one thing I had left, the last piece of myself I’d kept untouched, and now… now I feel empty, like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.Tears prick my eyes before I can stop them, and I try to stay quiet, biting my lip to stifle the sob building in my chest. But it’s useless. A sniffle escapes, soft but en
The Mafia King's Trophy 45 - Blood and Mine
MatteoHer brows knit together, and for a moment, she looks like she might fight me again. But then she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “I do.”Something in me twists at that. It’s not the answer I was expecting, and it hits me harder than I’d like to admit. But I don’t let it show. Instead, I lean down, brushing my lips against hers in a kiss that’s softer this time, almost tender.“Good girl,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.She shivers at my praise, her hands sliding up my arms, her nails scraping lightly against my skin as she pulls me closer.“You’re so fucking perfect,” I growl, my lips trailing down her neck, to her collarbone, to the swell of her breast. “Do you even realize that?”She lets out a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “I’m not—”“Shut up,” I interrupt, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Amara. You should know that by now.”Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling slightl
The Mafia King's Trophy 44 - She Chose Me
MatteoI watch her beneath me, her eyes wide but steady, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as her fingers dig into my shoulders. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, even when I can feel how hard my hands are gripping her hips. She’s never been afraid of me, not really, and that’s what drives me fucking insane.“You have no idea,” I murmur again, the words slipping out as I brush my lips over hers, softer this time, almost reverent. “How much I want you. It’s not just want—it’s need. Fucking need.”Her hands tighten against my shoulders, and I pull back enough to look at her, my gaze searching hers. “You came to me,” I say, my voice rough. “You didn’t have to, but you did.”She blinks up at me, her breath catching as she whispers, “You gave me a choice.”“And you chose me,” I growl, the truth of it settling deep in my chest, both exhilarating and terrifying. “You chose me, princess. Do you have any idea what that means?”She shakes her head slightly, her lips parting
The Mafia King's Trophy 43 - Choice Made
AmaraI sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the door, hating myself for how badly I want to open it.His words echo in my mind, over and over, like a song I can’t shake: Come to my bed tonight.It wasn’t an order, and that’s what makes it worse. Matteo never gives choices, and yet, tonight, he handed me one. And what’s worse? The second the words left his mouth, my first instinct was to say yes.I hate myself for it. For the way my chest tightened when he said it. For the way my breath caught when he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the chaos he created.I’ve spent the last hour pacing my room, the walls feeling smaller and smaller with every step I take. My thoughts are louder than they should be, a war raging in my head between what I want and what I should do.What I should do is lock my door, bury myself under the covers, and pretend none of this happened.But what I want to do…I let out a frustrated sigh, running my hands through my hair. Dancing helped clear my h
The Mafia King's Trophy 42 - I’m Giving You A Choice
MatteoAmara’s head rests against my chest, and I can feel the warmth of her breath through the fabric of my shirt. Her hands are still gripping me, as if letting go would break whatever fragile thread is holding her together.And for once, I don’t feel the need to speak.Her vulnerability is raw, unfiltered, and it seeps into me in a way that nothing else ever has. It’s not weakness—not with her. It’s strength disguised as surrender, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with it.My hand trails down her back, settling at the curve of her waist. I can feel the tension slowly bleeding out of her, her breaths evening out, though there’s still a hesitance in the way she leans into me. Like she’s testing how much of herself she can give before I take too much.“I hate how you do this to me,” she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest.I smirk, even though she can’t see it. “What, make you melt like this?”She pulls back just enough to glare up at me, though there’s no real bite to it
The Mafia King's Trophy 41 - You Feel Like You’re Mine
MatteoI hesitate outside her door, my chest tight with a fear I’ll never admit out loud. The guards reported nothing. No movement, no alarms, no sign she’d tried to leave. But still, I’m bracing myself for an empty room.I left the door unlocked on purpose. A test—or maybe a choice, I’m not sure anymore. I told myself it was to see what she’d do, to prove something about her loyalty or lack of it. But now, standing here, I feel like a fucking idiot.If she’s gone…I can’t even finish the thought.Swallowing hard, I push the door open, expecting the worst.But she’s there.My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight before me. She’s not in bed. She’s not cowering, plotting, or even sulking like I half expected.She’s dancing.Her movements are fluid, precise, like she’s caught in her own world, a world I have no right to step into. She doesn’t see me, too engrossed in the rhythm of her own body. Her arms move gracefully, her feet gliding across the floor with a lightness tha
The Mafia King's Trophy 40 - Weakness
MatteoThe meeting drags on, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. My father sits at the head of the table, commanding the room with a calm authority that’s always been both intimidating and inspiring. Lukas and Markus bicker over logistics, their usual bullshit filling the space, but I’m barely paying attention. My mind keeps drifting to Amara—to the way she felt in my lap this morning, the warmth of her body against mine, the way she looked at me like I was something more than a monster.“Matteo, stay behind,” my father says as the others start filing out at the end of the meeting.My head snaps up, and I nod, staying rooted in my chair as Lukas and Markus exchange a glance before leaving. The door closes behind them, and the room is eerily quiet. My father leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studies me with those sharp, calculating eyes. The kind of look that’s always made me feel like a kid caught doing something I shouldn’t.“What’s going on between
The Mafia King's Trophy 39 - Breakfast With an Audience
AmaraMatteo’s hand is firm as he leads me downstairs, his grip like iron around mine. I follow in silence, my head spinning from everything that happened last night.He was rough—he always is—but there was something different, too. Something softer. Something that made my chest ache and my pulse quicken in ways I don’t want to admit.And the things he said…The memory makes my cheeks burn. Matteo Dragonetti doesn’t do kind words, and yet he said things that had me feeling things I shouldn’t.I glance down at our joined hands, the sight of his calloused fingers wrapped around mine making my stomach twist. How strong of a hold does he have over me? Strong enough that I didn’t even try to grab one of his weapons last night when I had the chance. Strong enough that I didn’t even think about running.Why not?That question haunts me as we reach the dining room. Matteo doesn’t let go of my hand as he pulls out a chair, but he doesn’t let me sit in it either. Instead, he sinks down into th
The Mafia King's Trophy 38 - Crossing A Line
MatteoThe first thing I notice when I wake up is her. Amara’s watching me, her head propped on her hand, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It’s not smug or defiant or sharp like it usually is. It’s… different. Too soft. Too real. Like she’s letting her guard down without even realizing it.And it hits me in the chest like a punch I wasn’t ready for.My heart feels like it’s in a vice, squeezing tighter with every second she looks at me like that. I can’t fucking breathe.She looks at me like I’m hers.I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve her.“What are you smiling at?” I murmur, my voice rough from sleep.She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away, just tilts her head slightly. “You. You look… peaceful.”Peaceful. I almost laughed at that. Me? The walking disaster Matteo Dragonetti, peaceful? Not a fucking chance.I don’t respond. Instead, I reach out, curling an arm around her waist and pulling her against me like she belongs here. She gasps softly, her hands bracing against my chest a
