Bound To The Mafia のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

‎LUCA‎‎I sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing. The weight of the revelation hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had settled deeper into my bones, a constant hum of awareness thrumming beneath my skin.‎‎I had a brother.‎‎A brother who had been hidden from the world. A brother who had vanished the night I put a bullet in our father’s skull.‎‎And now, I had to find him.‎‎Before he found me.‎‎The sound of soft footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. Isadora. I knew before she even touched me, before her hands found my shoulders, squeezing just enough to ground me.‎‎"We need to talk," she said quietly.‎‎I let out a slow breath. "We already did."‎‎"Not about that," she said, stepping in front of me. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. "About the wedding."‎‎I stiffened. "What about it?"‎‎She hesitated, then took a breath, like she was preparing herself for a fight. "Maybe we should postpone."‎‎The words landed like a slap.‎‎My eyes locked onto he

‎LUCA‎‎The moment Isadora stepped through the door, I knew something was wrong.‎‎She wasn’t the type to shrink, to tremble, but there was something different about the way she held herself—rigid, controlled, like she was keeping herself from unraveling.‎‎Laura was right behind her, her face tight with unease, which only made my pulse hammer harder.‎‎I pushed off the desk, my full attention on Isadora. "What happened?"‎‎She exhaled sharply, her gaze locked onto mine. "Someone approached me at the boutique."‎‎Every muscle in my body went rigid.‎‎I crossed the room in three strides, stopping just inches from her. "Who?"‎‎She shook her head. "I don’t know. I didn’t recognize him. But he knew my name, Luca. He got into the dressing room—"‎‎I snapped.‎‎My jaw clenched so hard I could feel the grind of my teeth, my hands fisting at my sides to keep from breaking something.‎‎I turned to Marco, who had followed them inside. "Where the fuck were you?"‎‎His face was tight

‎ISADORA‎‎The tension in the house was suffocating. Luca hadn’t spoken much since last night, but I could feel his presence—watchful, calculating. He was always in control, but now? Now he was something else entirely. A storm waiting to break.‎‎I sat in the library, pretending to read while my mind ran in circles. Emilio. The name had latched onto my thoughts, sinking its claws in, refusing to let go. He had sent someone to me. He had found me. I was supposed to be safe under Luca’s protection, yet a stranger had slipped past his security like it was nothing.‎‎A sharp knock at the door made me jump.‎‎Laura stepped in, eyes scanning me carefully before shutting the door behind her. “You okay?”‎‎I sighed, closing the book I wasn’t actually reading. “I don’t know.”‎‎She sat on the armrest of my chair, crossing her arms. “Luca is losing his mind over this.”‎‎I snorted. “Yeah, I gathered that much.”‎‎“Have you spoken to him?”‎‎I shook my head. “Not since last night. He ju

‎LUCA‎‎The Next Morning‎‎The storm inside me hadn’t passed. It had simply settled into a quiet rage, one that hummed beneath my skin like a loaded gun. I stood by the window in my office, watching the sun claw its way up through the skyline, wondering how the hell it had come to this.‎‎Emilio. That name was starting to rot in my brain. I should’ve seen him coming. I should’ve anticipated the move, the breach. The moment I saw the fear in Isadora’s eyes, I knew I’d failed. And failure? That’s not something I wear lightly.‎‎She was right. She always is when it comes to the things I don’t want to admit. I’d been so obsessed with shielding her, watching her every move, preparing for every threat—except the one that slipped right past us. And she’d seen it clearer than I had: maybe she wasn’t the real target. Maybe I was.‎‎But fuck, if I’m the target, then fine. Let them come. I can take it. I’ve taken worse. What I can’t take? Watching her unravel, feeling that grief eating her

‎EMILIO‎‎Unknown Location ‎‎The ice clinked against the side of the glass as I stirred lazily, the amber liquid inside catching the light of the chandelier above.‎‎“Status?” I asked, mirroring the same word Morretti was probably spitting into his phone right now.‎‎Viktor stood across the room, arms folded, expression sharp. “She was shaken. He’s rattled. Mission accomplished.”‎‎A smile tugged at my mouth. “Good.”‎‎I rose from the armchair and crossed to the wall of screens, all still frames from different angles—streets, clubs, surveillance feeds. And right in the center, a blurry image of Isadora, caught mid-turn in that little bridal boutique. Fear in her eyes. Vulnerability in her shoulders.‎‎It was art.‎‎“She didn’t see the blade,” Viktor said. “Just the man. It was enough.”‎‎“That was the point,” I murmured. “It was never about hurting her. Not yet. It was about jarring him.”‎‎I tapped the screen slowly, the rhythm like a ticking bomb.‎‎“Luca thinks he’s sti