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Chapter 24: Unforgiven
Last Updated:
2025-01-07 18:28:46
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 25: The Weight of Forgiveness.
My father didn’t flinch, only pressed his lips tight. A sharp exhale followed, frustration clear—as I couldn’t see the logic in his betrayal.“Why are you acting like you don’t get it?" he snapped. "The pressure, the stakes. The Blades aren't just anyone. They demand loyalty. A child would've sealed that. I agreed because it made sense—it’ll strengthen our bond with them. It’s not as monstrous as you think."His words slammed into me like a physical blow. ‘Not as monstrous as I think?’ He was justifying the expectation that I’d produce an heir like some broodmare. Fury swelled in my chest, threatening to explode.And then it did.Without thinking, I closed the distance between us in two strides. My hand rose, and before I could stop myself, a loud slap echoed through the room. The force of it reverberated through my hand. My father’s head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening as he stumbled slightly, his expression a mixture of shock and anger.But then the room shifted. The walls
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“You’ve got guts thinking you can touch her while I’m standing here.” Dontrell’s voice was razor-sharp, slicing through the room with a quiet menace.“Move." The masked man's voice sliced through the tension, cold and unrelenting.I couldn’t see—Dontrell’s frame was a fortress, and I dared not peek around it.“Tell my father if he wants something, he can come here himself. She’s not going anywhere.” Dontrell’s voice was a low growl, thick with authority.The room held its breath.The room held its breath as footsteps echoed, heavy and deliberate. I heard the intruder advancing closer. My pulse thundered.Nadeem, who had been standing by my side, moved forward, ready to intercept. But before he could take another step, Dontrell’s arm shot out like a steel barrier, halting him."This isn’t your fight, Nadeem," Dontrell said, his voice low and commanding. "I’ll handle this." The authority in his tone left no room for argument. Nadeem froze, his muscles taut, then reluctantly stepped bac
Last Updated : 2025-01-08The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 27: Where the Heart Lingers.
The incessant beep of the heart monitor was the first thing I noticed. It pierced the thick fog in my mind, pulling me from the abyss. I blinked, slowly opening my eyes, only to shut them again at the bright, harsh white light above me. I couldn’t tell if it was real or a trick of my mind, but it was relentless, like the sterile smell of disinfectant that hung in the air—clean, but far from comforting.I tried again. This time, I kept my eyes open, the white paint of the room filling my vision. The softness of the sheets beneath me. A cold, uncomfortable weight in my head—like a fog I couldn’t push away.Then, the first face came into focus—Dontrell. He stood over me, towering like a shadow, his face a mask of worry and concern. My breath hitched, and I tried to speak, but my throat felt like sandpaper."Where... where am I?" My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper."Shh..." His hand was warm as it gently cupped mine, rubbing my fingers softly. "You're in the hospital, Dove."He placed a
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Dontrell sprang up and sat beside me, his weight shifting the mattress slightly on my left. His presence was comforting as I leaned into him. The weight of everything still pressed on my chest, but for now, his presence was soothing.“Hey, it’s okay," he said, his voice steady. "I know things feel off right now, but you don’t have to carry this alone."His words eased the weight on my chest. His hand on mine was a steady comfort, grounding me in the moment. “You’ve got me, always. I’m not going anywhere,” he added, the sincerity in his words leaving no room for doubt. I turned my head to meet his eyes, my chest swelling with emotion. Andrew stepped away from where he had been standing behind us and moved to my right side. He stood close enough to offer support. His hand lightly rested on my shoulder."We’re both here for you," Andrew said, his voice soft but filled with the same genuine care. “You’ve been through a lot, but you're not facing it alone.”I nodded, grateful, but my hea
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I swerved into the compound, the hum of my engine echoing through the quiet night. I parked my car, the lights flickering out, and reached under the seat for my gun. I didn’t have time to waste. I stepped out, eyes scanning the area. The guards nodded, keeping their distance.The building above ground was nothing special—a quiet, unremarkable café with vintage décor. But beneath that, hidden away by a locked door and accessed through a narrow staircase, was a whole other world. I made my way downstairs to the cellar, where the low, pulsing beat of music greeted me. The place was a nightclub for criminals—polished obsidian bar, dim lighting, arched brick walls, leather booths for privacy, and a dance floor full of bodies lost in the rhythm. Security screens flashed with live footage of the café upstairs, keeping everything clean. Private rooms were scattered throughout for the high-stakes meetings and deals that went down.I sighted Fang, seated at a leather booth in the far corner. H
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The night was unnervingly quiet. I paced the bedroom, my mind tangled in unease. Dontrell hadn’t returned till now, and though I knew better than to ask him or worry, the nagging feeling in my chest wouldn’t subside.He kept his world closed off from mine, a barrier I couldn’t cross. But the distance didn’t stop my worry. What was he doing? Who was he meeting? Why did danger always seem to follow him?I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze doing nothing to ease my racing thoughts. The city’s lights sparkled below, but I knew better—beneath the beauty was a world of danger and secrets, the kind Dontrell lived in every day."I stepped into the bedroom and into the bathroom to ease myself. Moments later, the front door creaked, and footsteps followed. I stayed calm but cautious, peeking through the bathroom door to see who it was.It was him.“Alison?” Dontrell’s voice broke the silence. His footsteps moved toward the balcony, his concern palpable.
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Dontrell’s gaze locked onto mine as he pulled me closer, kissing me deeply, his hands claiming my body with a possessiveness that made my heart race.I couldn’t deny the pull, even if my mind tried to fight it. My body betrayed me, leaning closer, wanting more.“Why are you always so damn beautiful?” He muttered, his rough voice sending a shiver down my spine.His lips burned a trail down my neck, pulling me closer as I moaned against his mouth, lost in the feeling of him.“God, you drive me insane,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against my skin. “I can’t stop wanting you.”His kiss was slow at first, teasing, but quickly turned desperate. The cool metal of my necklace brushed against his fingertips as he trailed my skin.His hands slid down my ass, pressing me into him. His chest firm against mine, he moved me toward the bed, lips never leaving my skin, every touch burning into me.My hands roamed his chest, the muscles beneath his singlet driving me wild. I wanted to fe
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I heard her scream before I even had a chance to react, the sound piercing through the sexual tension we’d been caught in. The shock of it sent my body into full alert, my muscles tight, adrenaline flooding my veins as I sat up on the bed, my eyes darting to the balcony she pointed frantically toward.“What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with concern. My desire still burned, but her fear cut through it.""Someone's on the balcony," she shouted, her voice trembling, grabbing the duvet and wrapping it around herself. Her chest heaved, face pale with terror.I shot up from the bed, the rage I’d felt a second ago gone in an instant, replaced by instinct. I rushed to the balcony, sliding the glass door open with force and stepping onto the cool, concrete floor.I scanned the darkness outside, my eyes darting, searching for any sign of movement. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice cutting through the silence.Nothing. Just the faint rustle of the wind, the quiet of the night. I stretched
Last Updated : 2025-01-11
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The second his name left my lips, the air turned razor-sharp.Silence. Dontrell went rigid. Clayton’s expression barely shifted, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—narrowed.Andrew didn’t move, but I felt the shift. The flicker of awareness. I had messed up. Badly. My excitement got the best of me, and now I had to think fast—cover my tracks before I landed in trouble.So, I played them. Still gripping Dontrell, I let out a scoff, my lips curling in disgust. "Andrew?" My voice dripped with contempt. "You survived?" Even Andrew looked taken aback by my tone, just as I wanted.I turned to Dontrell, feigning exasperation. "Remember how we made that bet? You said Andrew would survive Russia and come back home, and I told you he wouldn’t. Since Carter was from Russia, and you killed Carter’s brother—a mob leader over there—there was no way Andrew was making it out, no matter how skilled he was. And now, look." I gestured at Andrew. "He's here. Alive." Dontrell blinked, processi
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Dontrell took a step forward, his entire frame coiled like a predator ready to strike. “You’re not welcome here.” Clayton didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked bored. “You always were quick to anger.” His gaze flickered to me. “Is he always like this, Allison? Or is it just a brother thing?” I stiffened at being dragged into their war. “Don’t,” Dontrell snapped. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t—” “You’re acting like I’m the enemy,” Clayton cut in, his voice cool. “When I’m the only reason she’s still breathing after Carter’s attack that day.” Dontrell let out a dry chuckle. “You won’t get a thank you from me if that’s what you’re searching for.”“Oh, come on, brother. Not even a ‘Welcome, Clayton. How did your day go?’ Or maybe a ‘Congratulations on being the new Regent of the Circle?” I stilled. A Regent? Clayton was now the Circle’s second-in-command. That was the position Carter had been meant to fight for—if he hadn’t tried to kill me and ended up being killed by
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“You what?”My heart stopped. I blinked, my mind scrambling to catch up. My voice came out thin and unsteady. “Y-You already knew?” He nodded. My chest tightened. My hands balled into fists. “Are you kidding me?! Since when, Dontrell?! And you didn’t think I deserved to know?!”His jaw ticked. “A few days ago.” He exhaled sharply, his voice gruff. “My dad kept calling. I thought it was another of his tricks. Then Clayton called too.” He hesitated. “At first, he told Andrew. But Andrew had to leave for Russia that same day, so he never got the chance to tell me. Clayton told me himself.” My anger boiled over. I yanked my arm from his grasp. “I can’t believe you,” I shot back. His expression darkened. “Allison—” My voice shook with anger. “I thought we promised each other—no more secrets. No more lies.”He let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair. “Yes. But, Dove, how the hell was I supposed to face you and tell you that I have a step-sister somewhere out there—and th
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I was in bed.My mind reeled. The call—the argument—none of it had happened.It was just a dream.A dream so vivid it felt real—like a nightmare.I turned lazily, my mind spinning. My subconscious was playing games with me, messing with my head. It had been five restless days now—since I agreed to everything my mother’s messenger demanded, just for the chance to see her.Yet he still hadn’t given me her location.Instead, he kept feeding me cryptic messages. Kept mentioning Mr. Blade’s daughter. But never a name. Never a face. I had fallen asleep thinking about how I should give up on her search, but part of me couldn’t do that. And now my subconscious was punishing me.I turned onto my side, my cheek pressing against my phone. Drool smeared the screen.The alarm vibrated against my face.I removed my phone and lifted it. I wiped my mouth, staring at the screen. 4:00 PM.The exact time my mother’s messenger promised he’d call.But there was no call. I stopped the alarm. Ran to my m
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I was sitting in front of my dresser, dabbing foundation onto my face while staring into the mirror as I blended it in. My mind was already heavy, lost in thought, when my phone buzzed on the dresser against the wooden surface. I glanced down, and my hand froze mid-motion.Unknown number. If you knew me—if you had been following this story of my life—you’d know that unknown numbers never brought good news. Every time my phone rang without a name attached, it meant trouble. Big-time.I didn’t answer. I let it ring until it died.The room was silent for three seconds before it started again.My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the screen, hoping it would stop.But it didn’t.I swallowed hard and set down the beauty blender. With my left hand, I picked it up, bringing it to my ear. I barely had a chance to brace myself before a voice sliced through the line.“Hello."The way she said it—dripping with venom, taunting—made my stomach turn.Celine. I knew that voice anywhere, not
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. CHAPTER 102: Think, Allison. Think.
My hands trembled as I gripped the phone.The kitchen was cold, but sweat slicked my palms. My fingers trembled as I pressed the phone to my ear, my breath coming in shallow bursts. The house was quiet. The kind of silence that made the shadows seem bigger. Then, the voice came. Deep. Low. Controlled, slithering through the speaker.“Hold on to this like your life depends on it." I swallowed hard."I don’t need to remind you of the consequences. You should know them already. But I’ll say it again so we’re on the same page. Throughout this call, I don’t want you to respond or question me. Keep shut and listen to my instructions. It’s clear enough."My blood drained from my face, and I pressed my back against the cold kitchen counter, my body rigid.A chill crawled down my spine. My hand tightened around the phone as my knees threatened to buckle. The warning was unnecessary. I was already tense, and now—it felt like I could just go paralysed.The eerie silence between us was suffoca
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. CHAPTER 102: Think, Allison. Think.
My hands trembled as I gripped the phone.The kitchen was cold, but sweat slicked my palms. My fingers trembled as I pressed the phone to my ear, my breath coming in shallow bursts. The house was quiet. The kind of silence that made the shadows seem bigger. Then, the voice came. Deep. Low. Controlled, slithering through the speaker.“Hold on to this like your life depends on it." I swallowed hard."I don’t need to remind you of the consequences. You should know them already. But I’ll say it again so we’re on the same page. Throughout this call, I don’t want you to respond or question me. Keep shut and listen to my instructions. It’s clear enough."My blood drained from my face, and I pressed my back against the cold kitchen counter, my body rigid.A chill crawled down my spine. My hand tightened around the phone as my knees threatened to buckle. The warning was unnecessary. I was already tense, and now—it felt like I could just go paralysed.The eerie silence between us was suffoca
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 102: Blood on the Streets, Trigger & Knife.
The gunshots rang in my ears like church bells at a funeral—loud, final, and foreboding. My heart hammered in my chest; my body felt like I was passing out. The world went still. For a breath, a single breath, everything froze. The mob. The flashing cameras. The Christmas lights blinked in rhythmic oblivion.Screams split the air.People scattered in every direction, shoving, ducking, and running as panic swept the street. Tables overturned. Fliers flew. Someone knocked into a street vendor’s cart, sending oranges rolling onto the pavement. The chaos was immediate, suffocating.Dontrell hadn't shot the man—he’d fired into the sky. A warning. A declaration that he was a man with self-control—until he decided otherwise. The man who had charged at us stumbled back, fear cracking through his bravado like glass. His breath came in frantic bursts, his pupils blown wide with raw, primal fear. He hadn’t been hit, but he knew. The next shot wouldn’t be a warning.Dontrell never missed unless
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. CHAPTER 101: Dec. 24 —The Corpse That talked.
This can’t be.My hands trembled around the photograph. The entire shopping mall seemed to blur into silence, the distant hum of voices and Christmas music fading until the only sound left was my own jagged breathing.The photo in my hand was new. I knew how my mom looked when she died—late thirties. But here, she seemed older, late forties. The strangest part? A dried tear stain at the edge, right where it read, I’m alive, Ali.The woman in the photograph stared back at me.She had my eyes. My face. Older, sharper. But unmistakable. A dead woman doesn’t send letters. A dead woman doesn’t pose for pictures.And yet… I took in a sharp breath, my fingers shaking as I shoved the image back into the envelope. The box from Vivian slipped from my grip, clattering onto the shelf.I needed both hands—I needed to see the rest.Swallowing hard, I yanked out the next paper. It was roughly folded, creased like someone had carried it too long, unwilling to let it go. My pulse hammered as my fin
