All Chapters of The Don’s Captive Saint : Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

The door slammed shut behind the men, echoing through the damp, blood-scented corridor like a funeral bell. Luciano descended the staircase first, followed by Dante and Silvio, who was another of his close men. Each of them was dragging men gagged and bound, their muffled screams bouncing off the cold stone walls. One was Sergei’s soldier who contributed to messing up the shipment. The other? A rat. He sold information to Sergei about the shipment that allowed him to botch it.“Welcome,” Luciano said, voice calm, yet cold enough to blister skin, “to the place where you’ll both meet your maker.” he stared at them in disgust “Although I doubt the big man up in heaven had any hand in the creation of such pitiful people”The prisoners kicked and twisted in their bindings, eyes wide and pleading. But it only amused Luciano. Excited him even. He gestured to an iron-plated door. Dante shoved one man in. Silvio flung the other down beside him. Both men whimpered like children, the gags chokin

Luciano leaned in again, Araceli flinched violently, expecting the worst—but nothing could have prepared her for the way his lips met her cheek.It wasn’t a kiss. It was a brand. He was possessive, violent, and almost ritualistic in the way he lingered. He kissed it and then licked it. Then sucked it, hot and lingering, like he was trying to take something from her. And finally, he bit down, hard enough to leave a mark.A faint one, but a mark nonetheless.It was revolting to her.Her skin crawled beneath the wet heat of his mouth, a sick, burning trail left behind that made her want to claw it off. She felt violated like he had reached into her chest and tainted something sacred. It was the first time she’d been kissed on the cheek…if she could even call it a kiss.He pulled back, satisfied, as though he’d marked his territory.“Go,” he said simply.She didn’t move. She wasn’t sure if she could move.She stood frozen, cheek still tingling with that disgusting burn. Her entire body w

Hot white rage coursed through Luciano’s body. His jaw was clenched, he was able to keep his eyes cold and sharp, but it was his fist clutching the fork that truly gave him away. He gripped it so tightly, that the metal began to bend beneath his fingers.So the man she was talking about that night…was his brother.He turned his gaze to Nico, whose eyes were conveniently focused on anything but the table, anything but the people in the room.Was it shame? Embarrassment? Or was it something else?Luciano didn’t know. He just knew he wanted to release this rage in him. No, it wasn't just rage. What the hell is this unfamiliar feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach? Why did he want to pull out his gun and shoot at something or someone or maybe everything and everyone until the table was a bloody mess?He glanced back at his brother’s face—still red, still avoiding eye contact. What does he feel about her? he wondered. Does he feel anything at all? And then another, darker thought crept