All Chapters of Taken by the Mafia King: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

SeraWatching Killian drive away to do mafia business was one of the worst feelings I could experience. My gut was tight with worry. My heart skipped beats thinking of all the things that could go wrong. My head pounded with a headache. I imagined him coming home, some part of him gravely hurt, or worse—Killian not coming home at all.At least I had plenty of people to occupy my mind and lift my spirits. As usual, the household-wide dinner was excellent and filled with chatter.Mom bounced baby Michael on her knee. He kept reaching for bites of her turkey and mashed potatoes, which was so cute. Penny looked on, beaming at the love her son was receiving. Olivia and Joyce were having a debate about who the best character from Golden Girls was. Dustin and Callie were now the best of friends and were on the verge of dating. It was sweet to watch them sitting there, whispering to one another and smiling.I sat next to the empty head of the table, perfectly content to just watch and listen.

SeraRaw, unyielding terror paralyzed me.The day I’d been kidnapped from the school, a bag yanked over my head as I was thrown into a van and driven to the Marino mansion to be sold, had been the start of a journey through hell. There had been several men in that van. I knew I would never recognize all of their voices, but one of them had seemed so familiar.It wasn’t until the second I heard that voice in the dark again that I knew exactly whose it was.That night, he’d said, “Yeah, that’s a Bianchi, alright. I could spot one from a mile away.”My father’s faithful righthand, Mattia Greco.And now he was in my house, in my bed, his fingers slipping my nightgown’s strap down my shoulder.I forgot how to breathe as I stared at him, frozen, even as his brown eyes, black as a void in the dark room lightened only by the moonlight outside, took me in hungrily. “I came to offer my condolences,” he said, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. “For your father. It was a true tra

KillianI carried Sera all the way to the kitchen after wrapping her in a comforter from the nearest guest room. Caterina, Olivia, and Joyce rushed in like ER nurses to clean and bandage her up. I wanted to call Dr. Enstrom, but Sera insisted it wasn’t necessary.The tension in the room was palpable, sour and negative, and the moment I set Sera down at the table. Caterina tried to push me away, but Sera caught my arm with her uninjured one and whimpered, “Don’t leave me.”“Never,” I told her fiercely, refusing to leave her side as the women patched her up. Her throat and right cheek had thin lines that would disappear without scarring in time. The cut in her upper right arm, however, was deeper and needed stitches. It would heal as well but take longer to disappear.My heart refused to return to a normal pace. I was shaken up, though I would never admit it, but I would make my anger known. Sera and Tommaso somehow collaborated to make a move. My best friend distracted me from the issu

SeraI was probably scarred in more ways than one from the Mattia ordeal, and maybe I was still running on adrenaline that impaired my decision-making, but I knew I was still sane and doing what I meant to do.My core was starting to throb faintly, and making love to Killian was the best way I could think of to relieve my stress. It was better than attempting to sleep. I was still too amped up to even try.Killian shook his head despite the flash of intrigue in his eyes. What man actually wanted to deny his woman sex? “You’re too injured, amore. You need sleep.”I felt a surge of desperation, tears stinging my eyes as I admitted the fear already eating away at me. “I need you to touch me because he tried to touch me.”Rage passed over Killian’s face like a shadow. When it was gone, there was only compassion, something I realized I’d rarely seen on him before. I knew it was in him, but this was one of the few times he was vulnerable enough to show it.He scooted closer until we were pr

SeraMemories of a friend I once knew as a child rushed back.“That’s Paige Bruno,” I gasped, swiping the photo before Tommaso could hide it.Or what was left of her, I thought with a devastated heart. In the Polaroid, she was sitting on the ground, covered in dirt, and even with the flash on, it was hard to tell what color her hair was. Her pretty red hair, always in some sort of braid, gleaming in the sun as we chased each other through the yard. She was hardly recognizable.My fear sharpened into anger. I glared at Tommaso. “What the hell is going on? Why do you have this? Where is she? Who took this picture and when?”For such a broad-shouldered, confident, often cheery guy, Tommaso had a sudden knack for shrinking. He was eyeing the photo in my hand, and I knew he was calculating his chances of swiping it back. He had balls, thinking it would be easy to steal from someone who couldn’t move their right arm.“I’ve already seen it,” I snapped before he could get any words out, clutc