All Chapters of No Way ! Mafia Again ?!: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Shawn halted in his tracks, a cold sneer curling his lips as mockery gleamed in his eyes. “Oh, so you do care about your friend, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I ask you to recall certain things, and you respond by bringing up your friend?” His tone was sharp, taunting, as though Dean's question was beneath his notice.Dean clenched his teeth, swallowing the surge of frustration and despair. He knew all too well that in his current state, he had no leverage, no cards to play. Yet, desperation outweighed pride as he pressed on, his voice trembling with plea, “Please… just tell me…”To Dean, this wasn’t merely about a friend. It was about Damon, Chen, and Leo—three people who stood among the precious few he could trust, the pillars of strength in his life. He couldn’t just sit here, powerless and in the dark, while their fates hung by a thread."I could tell you," Shawn murmured, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, insidious tone that coiled around Dean li

Dean trudged through the villa with heavy steps, his pace deliberated and unhurried. Though places like this no longer fazed him—after all, it wasn’t the first time he had been confined in such surroundings—his sharp eyes still swept over every room with practiced vigilance. He pushed open a door and found himself in a study.However, this study was unlike any he had encountered before. The walls, adorned with nearly bare shelves, held little more than a few ornamental objects and a couple of lifeless potted plants. Dean's brow furrowed slightly as he paced around the room, scanning every corner. Yet, not a single book was in sight.“A study without books?” he murmured, a hint of perplexity in his voice. “Doesn’t this mafia boss like to read?”The thought took him back to the other places he’d been held, where the captors were eager to flaunt their cultivated tastes. Lavish rooms often boasted rare art pieces or collections of antique tomes, designed more to impress than to be used. T

That night, Dean leaned against the window of the villa, his gaze sweeping over the endless expanse of forest. A thought, one he had buried for far too long, surged to the forefront of his mind—escape. The idea wasn’t new; it had lingered for weeks, perhaps months. But fear, coupled with the relentless pain his body endured, had always forced him to suppress it. This time, however, was different. A quiet determination began to take root in his chest. He knew that if he stayed, he would only face endless torment. Anger and defiance churned within him, a smoldering ember on the verge of igniting, granting him a rare and precious courage.Over the next few days, Dean began preparing in secret. He packed only the bare essentials: water, clothing, and a few rudimentary bandages—all crammed into a small bag. He had no room for sentiment or hesitation. His singular focus was to leave this place of despair behind, even if it meant pushing his battered body to its breaking point.And then, the

The sound of fabric tearing filled the room, and Dean’s already tattered shirt finally gave way, leaving him exposed to the biting chill of the air. Despair clawed at him, almost overwhelming. He shook his head frantically, trying to stop what was happening, but Shawn paid no attention to his futile struggles.Shawn walked over to the shelves, selecting several clips with deliberate precision. Returning to the bed, he began placing them on Dean’s body, one by one. His movements were disturbingly practiced, each action methodical and calm, sending a shiver of terror down Dean’s spine.Shawn didn’t stop there. What little remained of Dean’s clothing was swiftly torn away, leaving him entirely exposed. From the assortment of items on the shelves—vibrators, wands, and other devices—Shawn began to gather them with an unsettling calmness.One by one, he positioned them near Dean’s most vulnerable and sensitive areas, each placement deliberated, as if orchestrating a cruel and calculated pla

Shawn stood frozen, his gaze dark and fixed on the scene before him. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white as if he were struggling to control some rising emotion. Finally, he stormed forward, crouching and roughly grabbing Dean’s chin, forcing his head up. His voice was cold and biting. "Is it really that hard?"Dean was caught off guard, and the force on his face made him wince in pain. His throat felt as if it might tear apart, and now Shawn's grip on his chin forced him to tilt his head back, aggravating the wounds on his neck. Even the bite marks on his shoulders seemed to intensify in pain, the tension in his muscles worsening it all. He gritted his teeth, but couldn't stop himself from taking a sharp breath, his eyes stinging and reddening, tears quietly slipping down his face."Are you complaining because you're picky? And even crying now?" Shawn looked down at Dean, his voice devoid of any sympathy, laced instead with a hint of mockery. He pressed his thumb hard against