All Chapters of The Mafia Lord's Spitfire Captive : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Dante's POV. My heart pounded, not from fear of the bullets…I’d faced them too many times to count, but because I had her to think about now. “Stay close!” I barked, glancing back. Her face was pale, her wide eyes darting around the scene as if trying to process the madness unfolding around us. “What’s happening, Dante?” Her voice trembled, but there was a sharp edge of demand in it. “Not now,” I said tersely, yanking her to the side as a bullet whizzed past us, close enough that I felt its heat. My instincts screamed for action, but I shoved them down, focusing on finding cover. The park, once serene, was now a battlefield. Families abandoned picnic blankets, couples screamed as they dove for safety, and children clung to their parents, wailing. Angelo’s men were swarming, their black suits standing out among the fleeing civilians. “Over here!” I spotted an old maintenance building up ahead, its chipped walls offering some semblance of shelter. I pulled Elena toward it, weaving

Angelo’s POV Five years ago. Damn, it felt like a lifetime. Back then, Dante and I weren’t enemies. Not yet. We were brothers…friends, at least. Partners in this bloody world we were born into. The kind of bond forged in fire and violence. We had each other’s backs when the bullets flew and bodies hit the floor. We had no reason to hate each other. At least, I didn’t think I did. Not at first. We worked under the same boss…Don Luciano. The old man was a legend in the Mafia world, the kind of guy whose name alone made grown men piss themselves. But he was sick, weak. Cancer was eating him alive, and he knew his time was running out. He needed someone to take over, and for some reason, he had his eyes on Dante. Always Dante. The memory hit me like a punch to the gut as I sat in my chair, the cigar in my hand burning down to ash. My mind drifted back to the day it all started to crumble. --- The sun blazed down on the Sicilian estate, with shadows over the vineyard. Don Luc

Dante's POV.The quietness of the abandoned shop settled around us like a temporary shield. I watched Elena as she rummaged through a broken cabinet, her movements quick and precise despite everything we’d been through. She had no idea how her presence had become both my greatest strength and my biggest distraction."Elena," I said, my voice low. She turned, her eyes questioning.I hesitated. The words felt foreign on my tongue, but they clawed their way out. "I’ve never done this before."Her brow furrowed, and she stepped closer, brushing dust from her hands. "Done what?""This," I gestured vaguely between us, frustration creeping into my tone. "Letting someone in, letting my guard down. It’s dangerous."Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she tilted her head, her gaze soft but piercing. "You think I don’t know that? We’re running for our lives, Dante. Nothing about this is safe."Her honesty hit harder than any bullet ever could. I let out a breath and ran a

Elena's POV.I was trembling, my heart pounding against my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm. Dante was unconscious, blood soaking through his clothes, his body limp in my arms as I helped the man drag him into the house. I couldn't breathe. The smell of blood was overwhelming, and the weight of Dante's body made everything feel even heavier. His blood was everywhere.The man who helped us with his car kicked the door in with a loud crack, and I couldn't even look at it as we brought Dante inside. The house was empty...Marcus wasn’t here, and I was alone with the man and Dante. My hands shook as I held him against my chest, trying not to break down.The man...tall, broad, probably in his thirties...was already rushing around. “We need to do something fast. Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes scanning the room.“I don’t know... I...Marcus keeps stuff around the house, I just... I need...” I was stumbling over my words, trying to think clearly. My

Elena's POV.The sunlight poured in through the old, dusty windows of the house I had once called home. It felt strange being back here. Everything about this place reminded me of a time before Dante, a time I’d rather forget. Marcus was sitting at the dining table, looking as disheveled as I’d ever seen him. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt was crumpled, and his hair was a mess.I stood by the counter, staring at the coffee mug in my hands. The silence between us was thick, the kind that could suffocate a person if it dragged on too long. I was still angry, but a part of me felt... tired.Marcus finally broke the silence. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”I glanced at him, my lips pressing into a thin line. “Neither did you.”He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “Guess we both have our reasons.”I turned back to the coffee. “You asked me something yesterday,” I said, my voice steady but quiet.Marcus frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”“You asked me if I care about Dan