All Chapters of Mafia's Lost Princess: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Elena This time, I knew the people inside were onto me. I almost cried when I saw the car follow me all the way to my school gate. It was definitely in relation to the letter that I had received. I shook my head, trying to think of a plan for what to do once I got off the bus, but nothing came to mind. I immediately started to fight for air as I began to hyperventilate. Suddenly, the walls and windows of the bus seemed to close around me, making me feel as though I was stuck in a dark box. I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard soft Italian words. It was the woman sitting behind me. "It's going to be okay," she whispered in Italian as she rubbed soothing circles on my back. I didn't know how long we were there, but by the time I calmed down and thanked her, we were already at my school gate. I ran straight from the bus stop into the school as soon as I got off, but I knew it was futile. I knew the car could easily drive into the school since it was public and anybody could enter.

Elena That was the question I wanted to ask, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Instead, I stayed silent and watched as he took another step back from me. I bit my lip as I willed myself to speak. Nothing came out, leaving me perplexed at myself and the state of my will. Nonetheless, I had decided that this would be the last time I would see Damon. Suddenly, a bright idea came into my mind. Perhaps I could write him a note instead, telling him that I wasn't interested in whatever it is he had to offer. "Where I come from," Damon's voice pulled me out of my thoughts about the note. "There was a man who gave everything just to make sure that the city was livable. Granted, it wasn't perfect and many sacrifices were made, but for the most part, it was fine. Until his reign began to fester." At this point, he was talking about how he had joined those that betrayed my father. I turned my head to one side, hoping he wouldn't see the anger that was on my features and continue his self-a

Elena Of course, Paul said nothing. The Kingpin, however, was unusually chatty. "I was very surprised to find out that you were the one who was taking my money. Of course, your family was so kind as to promise me multiples of the figure you've stolen," he remarked. "I didn't steal anything from you. I won the money fair and square. Most of those fights were fixed. So tell me, how are you able to break the system? This is the ironclad system that had worked for years before you came?" I replied, feeling a surge of defiance. "I have my men looking into you, they found nothing. It's almost like you appeared from the face of the world suddenly," he chuckled as he walked beside me, the clanking sound of the tips of his gold-tipped shoes bothering me as I flinched with each step he took. "But it doesn't matter now. You will get what is due to you, and I will get what is due to me. Your friend can attest to that," he gestured towards Paul, who stayed silent throughout the exchange. "But

Damon She was the most infuriating woman I had ever encountered. Infuriating and freaking perfect in every way humanly possible. Her dark red hair cascaded down her back in thick curls that I longed to pull; her pale skin called my name to lick every inch of it. She had an effect on me, and she knew it. Ever since the moment I met her, she had me wrapped around her little finger, especially when she walked away from me, giving a perfect view of her plump ass. No. I shook my head. I wasn't the kind of man to be pulled in by a woman. I had worked too hard to be that guy, at least I thought I was at the time I met her. She was guarded. Her eyes shone with a glint of knowledge despite the skepticism that was my greeting. Things were easier when she was just Elena. I could kiss Elena, play with her, flirt with her, and fuck Elena to my heart's content. I could chalk her skepticism up to normal caution some women exercise when they were around me. I didn't blame her for the skepticism

Isabella This would be the second time I would admit to myself that Damon confused me. He was too gentle, too soft to attend to much, a contrast between him and the person that fought. It was also a stark contrast from the man that dished out orders in front of me. He barked commands, directed the men moving to action, and they did. But his movements and that of his men were like a slow-motion movie. My heart was the only thing moving. I don't normally pace, or perhaps it was moving too fast. My mind seemed to match the pace as countless scenarios kept running through my mind. Each of them was worse than the last. In one of my imaginations, Paula was killed first because she didn't spend as much time with me, and Julian was tortured. In another imagination, they were both dropped into a pool filled with piranhas that ripped their flesh from their bones, leaving the pool a dark red color. I knew what Cassandra was capable of. She was mad, twisted, and the past 8 years must have made