All Chapters of The Mafia Don's Innocent Love: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

LyndaI looked at the clock in the living room. It was 9:30 p.m. The men were still not home. I grew worried as each minute ticked by.  I hoped that tonight was the night they would bring Rebecca home.  So I sat on the sofa in my nightdress with my robe around me. I waited. I prayed that by some miracle Rebecca was going to appear in front of me, safe and sound.  But again, tonight that wasn’t the case.  The men walked through the doors, and I jumped to my feet, looking wildly around them for any sight of Rebecca. When I saw their heads hung down, their shoulder sagged with yet another night filled with defeat, my throat closed up.&nbs

ArtemyThe sound of a gunshot was a shock through my body. Everything was silent, cold, as I stared at the piano thinking about Rebecca.  And then the silence was gone. Replaced with the sound of a gunshot. I heard a scream. Then another gunshot.  Everything else happened in a blur. My feet acted of their own accord, and I was running out of the piano room without a second thought.  Another painful scream. Lynda’s voice. It was Lynda’s voice.  I followed the scream toward the end of the hall, my heart racing wildly in my chest. I heard footsteps behind me, and without looking, I knew it was Brayden and Avim. They were a few rooms away

ArtemyWhen he didn’t speak, I sighed just for a good measure. Taking my sweet time, I strolled around his chair, giving him some time to catch his breath.  I stopped in front of him again. He was staring at his feet, his swollen lips set in a tight, stubborn line.  I lightly dragged the spiral knife down his cheek, not enough to break his skin. But it was enough to let him know what was about to happen next.  When the knife reached his other cheek, I pressed it harder, and blood oozed through the broken skin. He winced but stayed quiet, biting on his lip to stop the scream.  I knew the spiral knife burned where it cut and Milandro was probably in

BraydenHe broke.I watched Artemy break right in front of my eyes.I have known him for years—since we were babies—and very few times had I seen him at his weakest moment.Since his mother’s death, I had never seen him shed any tears. Of course not. He was the boss of four families. The Pakhan of the most ruthless Bratva. He was cruel and heartless.Artemy Loskutov didn’t cry.But right now, he was breaking.He didn’t care that his men were watching. All his focus was on Rebecca.I watched him cry. As he rocked Rebecca back and forth, his arms tight around her, I watched my boss, the man whom I have known to be ruthless, cry for his woman.I stood frozen, just a few feet away from them. My eyes shifted to Rebecca, and my chest tightened. It was a small change of emotion, but it was painful. Painful because I had never felt this way before.Avim moved to stand beside

ARTEMYAs my gaze remained fixed on her form, a rush of uneven breaths filled my lungs, their rhythm faltering as I observed her battered body. An ominous hue of deep purple marred the side of her left leg, while an unsightly shade of green began to creep over one of her arms. Evidently, this bruise was a recent addition, perhaps no older than a week. Further inspection revealed an array of minor cuts tracing patterns across her skin. Her face bore traces of bruising, yet it fared markedly better than the rest of her.  One peculiar detail stood out: her stomach, a canvas untainted by bruises. The expanse from her chest to the curvature of her abdomen displayed an unblemished, pale complexion. It was as if the front of her body had been left inviolate and unto