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Chapter 75—Every breath, a risk.
Last Updated:
2025-02-07 20:13:15
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 76: The King’s Office: A Battlefield of Pleasure.
The air in Dontrell’s office was thick—suffocating with want.I laid back flat against the plush leather of his sofa, my thighs spread as he knelt between them, one strong hand wrapped around my throat, the other buried beneath my panties. Two fingers curled inside me, each stroke ruthless, sending a flood of heat through my veins. His mouth was on me—hot, consuming—tongue lashing over my nipple, teeth scraping just enough to make me whimper.His grip on my neck tightened, forcing my gaze to meet his. Dark. Unrelenting."I’m not just going to give you what you want," he murmured against my skin, voice dripping with command. "I’m going to take everything. Every breath, every moan, every last drop of sanity until all you know is me."I tried to respond, tried to form words, but all that came out was a desperate moan as his fingers drove deeper, fucking me with a pace that made my back arch. The slick, obscene sound of his fingers moving inside me filled the office, blending with the wet
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His cock thrust into my cunt without warning, stretching me wide, and I moaned—loud, needy. He started slow, painfully slow, dragging out every inch of friction. I let out a strangled moan, my body arching in response."Needy little thing," Dontrell mused, his tone dripping with mockery as he slid deeper inside me. His hand cracked down against my ass, the sharp slap making me gasp. The sting melted into heat as his fingers kneaded the flesh, his grip punishing, possessive.I whimpered as his fingers trailed lower, teasing my clit from behind as he banged me."Look at you," he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. "So fucking wet. You love this, don’t you? Love it when I put you in your place.” "Yes," I gasped, my fingers gripping the edges of the desk."Say it," he ordered, his pace faster, drawing out my desperation."I love it," I whimpered, rocking back against his hand, chasing more. "I love it when you ruin me." He chuckled, dark and knowing. "Good girl." Then, without war
Last Updated : 2025-02-08The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 78—Thursday Afternoon: The Last Warning.
The disturbing sound of a ringing phone dragged me from the depths of sleep. I groaned loudly into the pillow. It was one of those deep sleeps where your body refuses to move, and the world outside the blankets doesn’t exist.The ringing persisted.I grumbled, stretching my hand out blindly toward the nightstand, fingers fumbling until they closed around the phone. Without looking, I swiped to silence it.Wait.I blinked groggily.It wasn’t my phone. It was Dontrell’s.The name Carter flashed on the screen. One of his men, maybe? Or a colleague?I exhaled, letting the phone drop back onto the stand, and burrowed my face deeper into the soft pillow.Barely had my body melted back into comfort when another call broke the quietness.I hissed in annoyance, reaching blindly for the phone again. This time, when I glanced at the screen, my sleep-ridden mind snapped into full awareness.Clayton.I rubbed my eyes, sitting up immediately. Clayton? Calling Dontrell? That shouldn’t be a shock—they
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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room. Outside, the evening sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and gold.I was still in bed. Still staring at my phone.Still waiting. Dontrell never came home last night.I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my phone as I reread the only thing he’d left me with. A text. One damn text. Dove, I know I should’ve been there. I’m sorry. Something came up.I’ll explain when we meet. Talk to you later. I love you.The words were cold comfort. A lousy excuse wrapped in affection.I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and sat up, pressing my palms against my face. I wanted to be angry. Maybe I was. But more than anything, I was restless. Unsettled. Because it wasn’t just Dontrell who had gone silent. Andrew too.He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single update since yesterday’s chilling revelation. I swallowed hard, pushing back the gnawing anxiety creeping through my c
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“Allison. Allison.”Andrew’s voice echoed through the door. I had just finished my shower, damp tendrils of hair clinging to my skin. Droplets clung to my skin, racing down my collarbone. I hastily pulled on a silk robe, tying it around my body before stepping out.He stood just outside my door, his expression neutral but his sharp eyes giving away the tension beneath. His sharp eyes flicked over me before settling on my face.“Dontrell sent me,” he said, voice calm, unreadable. “The dressers are here. You should come to the fifth floor.”I arched a brow, lowering my voice. “Is that all you came to say?” “No, but that’s the excuse I gave to come here.” His lips pressed into a thin line before he leaned in slightly. “I’ve got good news and bad news.” My stomach tightened. “What’s the good news?” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “We’ve found the location of the B.M.” The words hit me like a rush of cold air.B.M.—our code for the blackmailer. The name we used to keep an
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The moment the door clicked shut, the room erupted into motion.Five women descended on me like artisans working on their greatest masterpiece.Hands moved fast, practiced—pinning, brushing, tightening."Mrs. Blade, lift your chin." A firm hand angled my face, a cold swipe of contour gliding against my cheekbone."The dress is prepped—bring the gloves." Rhinestone mesh slid over my fingers, whisper-light but dazzling under the chandelier’s glow."Your hair, ma’am—sleek. Elegant. Fierce."A hand threaded through my blonde waves, twisting, pinning, securing—tight but precise. The style was flawless, the updo polished but lethal. A few deliberate loose strands framed my silver-blue eyes, softening the danger in them just enough."Shoes," I ordered. My sleek black box appeared before me. Jimmy Choo.The stoned heels glimmered as they were slipped onto my feet. My toes flexed, testing the razor-sharp stiletto points.Then—the dress.Black silk and lace molded to my body, every stitch de
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Silence thickened between us, heavy as his cologne. The limo slid through the night, its black leather seats curving around a mahogany bar stocked with whiskey. Crystal glasses sat steady despite the motion. Soft golden lights traced the ceiling, casting a sultry glow over the tinted windows and mirrored panels.I turned to him, searching his face. “Dontrell… What’s wrong?” His fingers flexed around his phone, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t look up. “Nothing.” A lie. A clean, effortless lie.I exhaled but didn’t push. Even if I asked again, his answer wouldn’t change.The limo rolled on for what felt like forever. Dontrell barely looked up from his phone, his attention locked on the screen. Every so often, he’d rub my lap, a brief reminder of his presence. “Stay close to my men tonight,” he murmured between texts.Eternity later, the driver’s voice cut through the silence. “We’ve arrived, sir.”Outside, a bodyguard in a black suit slid the door open. Dontrell’s dark gaze met mine—un
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Dontrell’s grip was firm against my back as he steered me forward. Every stare in the room burned into me, a silent accusation. My heart pounded, but I kept my face unreadable. The hall stretched wide, its harsh lights and towering ceilings pressing down on me.At the banquet table, a waiter yanked out a chair, and I sank into it.Clayton occupied the first seat. I was next. Dontrell took the third. Across from us, twelve men sat in utter silence, all dressed in black, red masks covering them from the nose down, with an X carved into each of their foreheads. A cold chill slid down my spine. None of them greeted me. They only spoke in unison."Welcome, Dontrell." And then, nothing. Their eyes followed my every move, but not a single one acknowledged me.The air hung thick. I could almost hear my own breathing when a man stepped onto the platform at the front of the hall. The Raven. His voice cut through the rowdiness like a blade."Silence." He barked, and not a murmur remained."To th
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I couldn’t sit. The air in this hospital lobby was suffocating, thick with tension. Each time those damn doors opened, my heart leapt—only to settle when it wasn’t the doctor. Just nurses, passing by with forced smiles like they could pretend everything was fine.Where the hell was the doctor? Eight hours had passed since Allison was rushed in. Eight hours, and still no news.I glanced at Clayton—panic twisted his face, just like mine. His hands were stained with her blood, dried at the cuffs. He sat tense, rubbing his face over and over as if trying to scrub away his anxiety.I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t stop the rage rising, my breaths growing heavier.My eyes kept darting toward him, recalling how she explained rushing into the restroom when she started bleeding and held her as her body went cold.The seconds before he reached the hospital—her head on his chest, her fingers twitching then stopping. That image burnt into me, searing into my soul. Why wasn’t I
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 143: My Life on the Line.
The sight of Clayton made my blood boil. Yet he stood there, arrogant and unbothered, like a loaded gun, his gaze mockingly daring me to snap.His voice, smooth but cold, cut through the air. “Couldn't pretend to like me even for a moment?”I barely had time to process the bite in his tone before he delivered the real blow.“For the sake of my unborn nephew. My son.”The words hit like a slap. My nails dug into my palms as I fought hard not to react in front of the crowd gathered in the hall, but he knew he was pissing me off, and he was loving it.I met his gaze, my voice sharp. “You don’t have a son here, Clayton. Don’t pretend you’re happy for your brother. We both know you wanted to be first to give your dad a grandchild.”He stepped closer, invading my space, leaning against the counter. “Yeah,” he admitted, his smirk infuriating. “But either way, I’m still glad. This is big news for my family. Aside from having an heir, you just helped us kill the rumours.” He tilted his head, v
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 142: A Toast to Lies.
The grand hall glowed under golden chandeliers, its walls awash in soft pink and blue. Balloon arches swayed near the high ceilings, their colours blending in baby-friendly charm. Floral arrangements lined silk-draped tables, candlelight flickering against crystal glassware.Grilled meats, aged whisky, and cigars laced the air, mingling with laughter and clinking glasses.Dontrell pulled this off in under eight hours, yet nothing felt rushed—only extravagant. He had done the impossible. Business moguls, high-ranking mafia associates—even his impish father, smug and satisfied—were all here. Soft, slow instrumentals hummed in the background.I wasn’t surprised. Dontrell moved mountains when he wanted something, and tonight, he wanted to celebrate me carrying his child.I sat at the left back corner of the hall, away from the crowd. I had been seated at the front with the Blades, but the weight of too many eyes had pressed in on me, making me nauseous.So I slipped away to this quieter s
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The ground beneath me swayed like I stood on the edge of an abyss. My pulse thundered in my ears, muffling the voices around me.Mr Blade’s stare held me captive—cold, unreadable. Clayton’s gaze was no softer, sharp as a knife. Doris stood frozen, barely breathing.I was trapped.I let go of her hand, but the weight of the moment didn’t lessen.“Go on.” Mr Blade’s calm voice masked steel. “Tell her what you want to tell her. Nobody else has to hear.”I scoffed, my lips curling in defiance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”His face hardened. “Speak.” The command cracked like a whip.A presence shifted beside him. Dontrell. He had been at the burial front, yet somehow, he stood here, appearing as if from thin air.“Is there a problem here?” Dontrell asked his father. His voice was calm, but his stance bristled with power. “I heard your voice from a distance.”Mr Blade’s lips curled in displeasure. “No problem… unless your wife wants one.”Dontrell’s posture stiffened, his eyes
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 140: One. Two. Pull the Trigger.
Rocco’s entire body shook. "What?"His eyes darted between his dying son and Dontrell’s cold, unyielding gaze. The room held its breath. A father’s impossible choice—yet here he was. His son twitched, drowning in his blood. No saving him. No stopping this. Mr Blade didn’t blink. The walls closed in.Dontrell’s voice was merciless. “She’s locked in a container on my dock. If I have to pull the trigger, I’ll have my men drop her in the ocean —ALIVE.”Rocco’s grip wavered as he took the gun. His fingers trembled, nearly dropping it.Mr Blade stepped toward Rocco, gripping his cane. He pulled off the rubber tip at the bottom—revealing a sharp blade. With a brutal thrust, he stabbed Rocco’s foot.Rocco screamed.Mr Blade twisted the blade deeper. "I pull it out; it goes in your back next. Stop wasting my time."Rocco sobbed.Dontrell’s voice cut through, counting. "One. Two—"Rocco murmured to his son, “I’m sorry.”He pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through his son's forehead, blood
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 139: Allison’s POV: an eye for an eye.
I hadn’t left the living room, just shifted—hitting Dontrell, striking Clayton, demanding answers they didn’t have. How did they let this happen? Why didn’t they save him?At some point, a guard tried holding me back. I slapped him too. But none of it mattered. Andrew was still gone.Now, It was nearly four a.m., and I was still here. Neither Dontrell nor Clayton had left. They had told me to go to bed, but how could I close my eyes after what had happened?The phone calls never stopped all night. Different numbers, different voices, different updates. The Blade men were already hunting a name—Rocco Valeri. The bastard who killed Andrew. I sometimes forgot how ruthless and skilled the Blades were—especially with their own enemies.I prayed they found him. But I also knew something. When the Blade family hunts a foe, they don't seek revenge, they seek annihilation.I hadn't even realized I had dozed off until the sound of heavy boots storming into the living room jolted me awake. I s
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 138: Everything Faded to Black.
Tires screeched on the rough pavement as I swerved, forcing the car to its limits. Dust choked the air as I sped toward the warehouse. The engine roared—a battle cry."Hold on!" I barked, gripping the wheel. My heart pounded with the engine's growl.Clayton and Dontrell braced behind me, jaws tight, fingers twitching on their guns. The eight men left in their convoy followed closely behind us. No turning back now.I pushed harder. VRRROOOMMM—swerved past a wrecked truck.The warehouse loomed, rusted doors towering like hell’s gates. I hit the brakes. Tires screamed as the car skidded into position.The moment I cut the engine, the doors flew open."Move! Move! Move!" I bellowed, shoving my door open.Everyone jumped out, weapons drawn. The air was thick with tension, the promise of war looming over us like a storm ready to break."Where the hell are our troops?" I barked at Dontell. “We need the damn backup now!" I stepped out, both guns in hand.He barely looked up from his phone. "
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 137: Andrew’s pov: Blood.
The moment I stepped out of the airport, the first thing I saw was Dontrell—he leaned against the bulletproof SUV, arms crossed, unreadable. Clayton sat in the front, scanning the surroundings.Immediately I got in, Clayton fired up the engine, jaw tight, steering through the busy street.Five armored cars flanked us—two ahead, three behind, like an iron wall. But inside our bulletproof ride, it was just us.Dontrell sat beside me, loading his gun with practiced ease. I did the same, checked my rounds, cocked my weapon, tightened my vest. The car smelled of gun oil and adrenaline."Trust’s a luxury I can’t afford," Dontrell muttered, reloading. "That’s why Clayton’s driving." He tossed me a gun. "This conversation stays between us."I nodded, my fingers tightening around the cold steel in my hands, fully loaded. No safety. No bullshit. “Talk to me.” Clayton pulled onto the road, leading the convoy as we sped out of the city. The silence was heavy. The kind before war.Dontrell unzip
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 136: Allison pov - Twisted Fate.
Alone in the mansion, I curled up on the velvet couch, flipping through a book I wasn’t even reading. The television murmured in the background, its flickering images failing to distract me. Security was everywhere. They had been in here with me before, but I had asked them to stay outside —their presence was suffocating.In the past twenty-four hours, my life has been a whirlwind. Mr Blade had called, demanding to speak to me, but Dontrell refused to hand me the phone. Then my father called—cold as ever. He boasted about his bank’s new investor, thanks to me and our ties to the Blades. As if that wasn’t enough, he reminded me I was taking too long to have a child, asking, ‘What was my problem?’ I hung up without a word. I wouldn’t let his voice poison my thoughts.Despite the chaos, Dontrell had been genuinely worried about me. He continuously asked if my father’s call or Mr Blade’s demand had upset me. "I’m fine," I lied, and he also didn’t believe me.Paranoid, more than usual. He
