All Chapters of Ruined By Mafia: Chapter 71 - Chapter 77

I stormed into my room, my steps heavy and unforgiving, each footfall a thunderous declaration of the fury coursing through my veins. The rage inside me burned like wildfire, threatening to consume everything in its path, reducing my carefully constructed control to ashes. My heart hammered against my ribcage, the sound deafening in my ears.The second I stepped inside, I slammed the door shut behind me. Hard. The impact rattled the walls, the sound echoing through the vast, empty space like a gunshot in the dead of night. The heavy mahogany vibrated from the force, the hinges straining against the sudden violence. But it did nothing—absolutely nothing—to ease the storm brewing inside me. If anything, it only intensified the hurricane of emotions threatening to tear me apart from the inside out.My chest rose and fell too fast, my breathing uneven, almost ragged, as if I'd run miles instead of simply walking away from her. Each breath burned in my l

It has been a month. A full month since the last time I saw Dante. I stood at the window of my room, staring out at the sprawling estate grounds without really seeing them, my mind caught in the same loop of thoughts that had plagued me for thirty unbearable days. A month since he pinned me against the wall, his body a cage of barely contained violence, his fingers digging into my wrists with enough force to leave marks that lingered for days afterward. A month since his voice dripped with barely contained fury as he demanded answers from me, questions about Alexandro, about the dance, about whispered words that weren't nearly as significant as Dante had made them out to be.A month since he vanished.Not physically, of course. I knew he was here, somewhere within these walls. The mansion was large, but not large enough for him to disappear completely. Occasionally I would hear his voice echoing down corridors, catch glimpses of his security detail moving with purpose,

Two days. Forty-eight hours. That was the deadline I had given him. That was how long I told Marco he had to get Dante back here."Tell Dante he has 48 hours to return, or he won't like the consequences."I had said it with every ounce of defiance I had left. Standing in that kitchen, coffee forgotten, eyes locked with Marco's, I had felt powerful. Dangerous. I had stood tall, voice unwavering, willing to challenge the very man who had kept me caged in this world. In that moment, I had believed my own bluff—believed that I could create the kind of chaos that would force Dante's hand, that would make him acknowledge my existence again. The marble countertop had been cool beneath my fingertips as I leaned forward, my reflection fractured in Marco's dark, unreadable eyes. Something had shifted between us in that moment—a balance of power tilting ever so slightly.But now—now that time had passed—doubt crept in, insidious and persistent.

Antonio's cold gaze stayed locked on me, his stance still as stone. His eyes were bottomless pits in the fading light, revealing nothing yet conveying everything. The shadows from the setting sun cast half his face in darkness, the other half illuminated in harsh relief, emphasizing the sharp angles of his features—the prominent cheekbones, the rigid jaw, the hawkish nose. Not a muscle twitched in his face, not a flicker of emotion crossed those granite features. In that moment, he seemed more statue than man, carved from some unyielding material that knew neither mercy nor fatigue. The silence between us stretched, elastic and dangerous, weighted with unspoken threats and consequences.I could see it in his eyes—he wasn't going to let this go. There was calculation there, cold and precise, as he measured my defiance against his authority. In all my weeks of training, I had never directly challenged him like this. I had pushed back in small ways, had questioned ce