All Chapters of Trapped in the Crime Lord's Obsession: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Damon sat quietly in the warehouse, his eyes fixed on his wristwatch. It was 10 PM, and the solar-powered lights outside cast a harsh brightness over the area, illuminating the empty lot and the dark silhouettes of nearby trees. He exhaled slowly, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the cool night air. Despite the calm appearance he projected, his mind was already calculating his next move.Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the sound of engines rumbling through the forest. A group of bikes—rough, and black, trolled in droves. About twenty men, their faces set in grim determination and their hands never far from their guns, rolled in. They spread out methodically, their task clear: search the perimeter for any sign of trouble. Among them, four of the bikers veered off and sped toward the warehouse. When they saw Damon sitting there like a king surveying his domain, they quickly signaled to their boss.Moments later, a man in his fifties, with weathered skin and eyes that

Scarlett Manzoni, Mario's sister, stood tall behind her desk, her thick frame exuding authority in the well lit office. Her vicious blue eyes bore into Bob, Anna’s father, as she turned to face him. At forty-five, she retained a striking beauty, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a defiance against time. With Mario dead, she was next in line to lead the Manzoni clan, and she carried the weight of that responsibility with a powerful resolve."I strongly believe Damon is behind my brother’s death," she said, her voice steady and cold. "What do you think, Bob?"Bob shifted uneasily in his chair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. A man of average build, his graying hair and worry-lined face. "I don’t think Damon did it," he replied, his voice faltering slightly. "He has an alibi."Scarlett’s eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening like a blade. "Are you saying this to protect your daughter?" she pressed, suspicion lacing her tone. "Are you picking your daughter over me?"Fear

A man in his early fifties stood at the imposing iron gates of Damon's mansion. His coat was slightly rumpled, and his hands fidgeted with the strap of a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Two security guards approached, their broad frames and stern expressions signaling that no one entered unvetted."Hands up," one of them ordered gruffly, his voice cutting through the stillness. The other guard stepped forward, patting down the visitor with practiced efficiency, searching for any trace of a weapon. Finding none, he nodded to his partner."He's clean," the second guard muttered.The first guard fixed the man with a hard stare. "Who are you?""I'm Doctor Francis," the man replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nerves. "I'm here to see Mr. Damon."The head of security, a towering figure with a scar running across his jaw, stepped closer. "Damon’s not around," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "But his sister might want to hear you out." He tur

The helicopter descended into a small clearing nestled deep within the Mexican tropical forest, its rotor blades chopping through the thick, humid air. The sound was a relentless whump-whump, sending gusts of wind that bowed the towering pines and scattered dry leaves in swirling patterns across the ground. A semicircle of mercenaries stood waiting. Six men, hardened by years of conflict, gripped their rifles with steady hands, barrels pointed slightly downward but ready to snap up at a moment’s notice. Dust kicked up by the chopper’s landing swirled around their boots as it settled with a soft jolt, the skids sinking slightly into the earth. No one seemed to come out from the helicopter. The mercenaries shifted uneasily, exchanging quick, wordless glances. Their leader, a burly man known simply as the boss, stepped forward. His scarred forehead twitched faintly as he squinted at the chopper’s dark windows. His heavy boots crunched against the dry ground, each step deliberate, h

Under a full moon, the forest stretched cold and silent, save for the distant howls of wolves and faint, eerie laughter that drifted through the trees. Damon pressed forward along a narrow path, Anna’s limp body slung across his shoulders. His red Lycan eyes glowed fierce in the dark, cutting through the shadows like a blade. Tall trees towered above, their thick branches choking out the moonlight, leaving only slivers to speckle the ground.Wild animals lurked nearby, drawn by the scent of Anna’s death. A wolf pack edged closer, their eyes glinting with hunger, until Damon let out a deep, rumbling growl. They bolted, tails low, and even the bolder creatures—bears, foxes—slunk back into the undergrowth. But as he reached a small clearing, Damon slowed. Ahead stood a threat no growl would scatter.Three werewolves blocked his way, their blue eyes glowing bright and unyielding. Guardians of the territory, they bristled with tension, claws flexing. Damon didn’t hesitate. He strode to