All Chapters of Their Serenity (A Reverse Harem): Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Sofia.The safehouse was too quiet.Even with security outside, even with the occasional sound of footsteps in the halls, the silence felt wrong.It had always been like this—a cold, calculated kind of quiet, designed for function, not comfort. The walls were thick, reinforced, soundproofed. No outside noise. No echo of the life that existed beyond these walls.I had stayed here once before. Years ago.Back then, silence had been a luxury. A moment to breathe.Now, it was suffocating.I moved through the dimly lit halls, my bare feet light against the marble. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, rich and bitter, but when I reached the kitchen, I found the pot empty. Someone had been here recently.I exhaled sharply and filled a glass of water from the sink, bringing it to my lips with slightly unsteady hands.“Drinking water instead of coffee? That’s new.”I didn’t turn at the sound of Nikolai’s voice. “You’re one to talk.”The chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it out,

Sofia.The weight of the room pressed down on me, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Arsen’s shallow breaths and the scent of antiseptic—it all felt suffocating. But more than that, I felt the suffocation in my chest, in my heart. The space between us was growing larger by the second, and I was helpless to stop it.I could feel the heaviness of my thoughts, the constant battle inside me between the love I couldn’t deny and the anger I couldn’t quite bury. I wasn’t sure what was worse—loving him or trying to pretend I didn’t feel anything at all.But I had to face it. I loved Arsen. No matter how many times I tried to bury it, no matter how many walls I built around my heart, it was still there, pulsing, undeniable. And now, as I sat beside his hospital bed, watching him fight for his life, I couldn’t pretend any longer.The door to the room creaked open, and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Nadei’s scent, the heavy weight of Nikolai’s presence, the quiet foo

Nikolai.It started small.A conversation here. A passing look there.At first, I thought it was my own exhaustion playing tricks on me. The last weeks had been heavy, slow in some ways, too fast in others. Six weeks since Arsen had nearly died. Six weeks since Sofia had looked us in the eyes and told us she wouldn’t choose—because she couldn’t.And somehow, none of us had walked away. We never would.I had expected the distance between us and Arsen to stretch, for the resentment to fester even more, but that’s not what happened.Instead, it was the quiet things.The way he stepped back when tempers ran high. The way he never inserted himself where he wasn’t wanted but was always just there when it mattered.I noticed it first when Nial had come back from hunting one of Sokolov's consiglieres, stiff, a rare tension lining his shoulders. He didn’t talk about it—not to us. Not to anybody. He just went straight to the back porch, standing in the cold, watching the night sky like he did w

Nial.The warehouse smelled like blood.It clung to the concrete, soaked into the rusted metal, crept into the cracks in the walls. It was inescapable, thick and suffocating, and yet, I breathed it in without flinching. Sokolov had been here for two days. Two days since we’d dragged his broken body into this room, tied him up, and left him at the mercy of Sofia’s brothers.Two days, and he was still alive.Disappointing.I stood near the entrance, my fingers wrapped around the hilt of my knife, watching as Valentino worked. He had always been the worst of the four when it came to things like this—where Luca was calculated, Renzo was efficient, and Aurelio was ruthless, Valentino enjoyed it. There was no cold detachment in his actions, no professional distance. He liked the suffering, liked the way men broke apart under his hands.And Sokolov was breaking.The Russian was barely recognizable. His face was swollen, split open in more places than I could count, one of his eyes too damage

Author’s POV.The car was a coffin on wheels.Blood slicked the seats, thick in the air—iron-heavy and suffocating. Aurelio was slumped between Nadei and Renzo, his body unnaturally limp, his skin so pale it looked like wax. His chest barely moved, each breath a shallow, ragged fight. The bullet wounds—one in his side, the other in his chest—kept pouring, no matter how hard they pressed down.Luca was driving like a madman, tires screeching as he weaved through the streets. Nikolai was in the passenger seat, turned around, his hands pressing over one of the wounds with brutal force. It wasn’t enough."Fuck! He's losing too much!" Nadei snarled, his voice raw, desperate. His hands were drenched in Aurelio’s blood, his grip unrelenting. "Where the fuck are the doctors?"“We’re almost there,” Luca gritted out, but the panic in his voice betrayed him. He was flying through red lights, pushing the engine to its limits, but it wasn’t enough.Nothing was going to be enough.Aurelio coughed,