All Chapters of The Mafia's Addiction: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

**************~Sterling’s POV~The dimly lit room reeked of aged wood and power—a private lounge reserved only for the elites of the werewolf world. I leaned back in the leather armchair, swirling a glass of blood-red wine in my hand, my lips curving into a slow smile.“Your little stunt worked perfectly,” I said, glancing at the woman across from me.Trisha Don Mars.She sat on the edge of the couch, her legs crossed, looking every bit the picture of confidence and poise. Her lips curled into that signature smirk of hers, one that dripped with malice and self-satisfaction.“Of course it worked,” she replied, taking a sip of her own drink. “Arianna’s cracking, isn’t she?”I chuckled. “She’s human—what did you expect? Damon’s pushing her to the edge, and even he knows she won’t survive the Luna Trials. It’s just a matter of time before she breaks.”“And when she does,” Trisha said, her voice soft but venomous, “Damon will finally realize what a mistake it was to choose her.”Her finge

*****************CHAPTER 63~Arianna’s POV~I did not bother arguing when Damon said we should train. All I wanted was a way to survive two weeks from now. If whatever he had planned for me could do it. Then, so be it. Damon led me down a long hallway, past some offices and through a heavy steel door at the back of the penthouse.The moment we stepped inside, my breath hitched.The room was massive—a full-blown training facility. Dim overhead lights cast long shadows over the walls, filled with rows of weapons. Silver daggers. Guns with silver bullets. Chains, cuffs, throwing stars, and even an entire wall of swords.I swallowed hard. This wasn’t just a training room.This felt like a war zone.Damon strode toward the center without a second glance at the weapons. “Your gear,” he said, tossing something at me.I caught it clumsily, looking down to find a pair of black leather trousers, a bralette, a tank top, and a simple hair tie.I arched a brow. “Seriously?”Damon smirked. “You’l

*****************The dimly lit room reeked of aged wood and power—a private lounge reserved only for the elites of the werewolf world. I leaned back in the leather armchair, swirling a glass of blood-red wine in my hand, my lips curving into a slow smile.“Your little stunt worked perfectly,” I said, glancing at the woman across from me.Trisha Don Mars.She sat on the edge of the couch, her legs crossed, looking every bit the picture of confidence and poise. Her lips curled into that signature smirk of hers, one that dripped with malice and self-satisfaction.“Of course it worked,” she replied, taking a sip of her own drink. “Arianna’s cracking, isn’t she?”I chuckled. “She’s human—what did you expect? Damon’s pushing her to the edge, and even he knows she won’t survive the Luna Trials. It’s just a matter of time before she breaks.”“And when she does,” Trisha said, her voice soft but venomous, “Damon will finally realize what a mistake it was to choose her.”Her fingers traced the

*****************CHAPTER 67~Arianna’s POV~I followed Damon through the dense trees, my legs aching with every step. My body was still weak from the brutal training, but curiosity kept me moving.“Where’s this place?” I asked, scanning the area as we emerged into a clearing.The air here was heavier, filled with something unspoken. The ground was packed dirt, uneven and scarred, as if countless battles had taken place here. Wooden dummies, worn and splintered, stood in a jagged row. Rusted chains dangled from a thick iron post, the metal stained a dark crimson. Against the farthest wall, an array of weapons hung—knives, whips, staffs, and even crude spiked bats.“This was where I used to train when I was young…” Damon’s voice was quiet, almost distant. “With my father.”I froze. Damon barely talked about his father. Hearing him mention the man so casually made my stomach twist. I turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on something only he could see—s

*****************CHAPTER 68~Damon’s POV~I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my fingers twitching at my sides. My anger had burned out like a candle in the wind, leaving only this—raw, aching silence between us.Slowly, almost hesitantly, I took a step forward. Then another.Damon didn’t move, didn’t flinch, as I closed the distance between us. My heart pounded, each beat a whisper of hesitation, of something I didn’t fully understand.“C-Can I?” I asked softly, barely above a whisper. My hand hovered in the space between us, close but not touching.He didn’t respond right away. His dark eyes locked onto mine, searching—maybe for my intent, maybe for something else. Then, after what felt like forever, he gave a small nod.I exhaled shakily and reached out. My fingertips grazed his skin, featherlight as they brushed over the bruise on his ribs. Damon tensed under my touch but didn’t pull away.Gently, I traced the edges of each mark, my fingers gliding over the discolored patches