All Chapters of The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The dark weather and cold breeze that brushed Allison’s skin couldn’t ease the hurt buried in her chest. The sky hung heavy, casting a gray shadow over the cemetery.With her hands quivering as they grabbed the sides of her black dress, sixteen-year-old Allison stood at the edge of the grave, her eyes red and swollen from grief. It was a small coffin, as if its size mirrored how little time her mother had spent with her—just sixteen short years.Beside her stood her father, Mr. Blackwell, a man of rigid strength, yet even he could not mask the pain of losing his wife. He quickly wiped away a tear from his face. His other hand rested on Allison’s shoulder, a gesture meant to offer comfort, but she barely felt it. He awkwardly patted her shoulder again. He didn't quite know how to ease her sorrow or comfort her."I’m consoled you’ve gone to rest from this toxic world, but I'll forever miss you, my love," Mr. Blade whispered emotionally, but his words fell into the heavy silence that sur

The plane landed with a smooth bump, and as I stepped up to the boarding door, the cool San Diego midnight breeze ruffled my hair. Dontrell’s large hand was warm as he took mine, lifting it to place a peck on it.“Let me guide you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice low, close to my ear. “I don’t want you tripping.”Without any more words, Dontrell led me down the plane's stairs, his hand still holding mine. His steps were sure and confident, and his presence was strong as I carefully followed behind. The bright glow of runway lights pierced the night and cast long shadows across the ground. At the end of the step, I was met with the warm grins of a gathering of youthful ladies and men dressed in savvy, blue outfits that made it clear they were part of Dontrell's domestic staff. Their modest appearance was a simple indication of the kind of life I was venturing into—a life where the simplest detail was carefully curated. I adjusted my Chanel bag, holding it tightly against my side. On

Our car swerved sharply into the compound, the tires crunching over the gravel as it came to a halt. The car parked near the entrance, just next to the circular driveway, where a majestic lion statue stood in the center, its fierce gaze directed toward the grand steps leading into the mansion.I stepped out and immediately felt the icy chill settle over me—the kind that was more than just a breeze, the kind that sank into your bones. It was the same compound they had brought me when they first kidnapped me—those memories felt icy against my skin, clinging to me. Dontrell’s hand pressed gently on my back as we walked forward.“It’s okay if you want to go back,” he murmured beside me, his voice soft but concerned.“No, I’m good,” I lied; my heart was thumping. The truth was, I wanted to be here with him, despite the dark memories tied to this place.As we reached the entrance, Dontrell stopped to pull me closer into his arms. "You know I love you, right?" he whispered, his breath warm a

The pain radiated from my neck as Clayton’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging deep into my skin. The knife still hovered dangerously close to my face, and I gasped for air as his cold breath tickled my skin. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of this,” he hissed, his voice venomous.Then, without warning, the pressure eased. But it wasn’t mercy—it was a shift in position. I stifled a breath, the knife finally leaving my face. He crossed in front of me, bending over my shoulder, his body hovering close. His grip remained firm on my neck, and I could feel his heat, his body pressed into mine as he reached behind me. He cut the ropes binding my hands, but I could barely think as his presence loomed over me; the weight of his body on my shoulders held me in place.When the ropes finally gave way, my hands were free, and I gasped, moaning from the relief on my sore skin. My chest tightened, but it didn’t last long. In a split second, the tension in my body snapped into a fra

The smoke from Clayton’s gun lingered as the man crumpled to the ground. Clayton holstered his gun, his cold gaze fixed on the body. “Get rid of him,” he ordered, his tone like ice. The security men swiftly dragged the corpse out. He turned back to the council. “This is our time to act. Call the Graves’ second-in-command—no deals, no mercy.”The room was tight with tension as Clayton spoke. His words were sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. I stiffened at his bluntness. Clayton had no patience for diplomacy.Simeon, the Graves Gang's representative, shot to his feet. His eyes burnt with anger, his voice booming across the room. "You can’t accuse us of killing our boss. Of robbing you." His words echoed, thick with indignation."No one mentioned robbery, Simeon. Yet you seem to know about it.” Clayton shot back.I turned my gaze toward Simeon, locking eyes with him. Every man in the room was watching him now, waiting for him to break, but he struggled for words, caught u