icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon

Escaping the Pawn, Ensnaring the Don

Chapter 3 3

Word Count: 767    |    Released on: 18/03/2026

ella

New York streets until we pulled up to a heavily fortified brownstone in a quiet, respectable neighborh

ve whiskey, leather, and an uns

n Fal

to me with the predatory stillness of a hunting cat. The ma

usion warring in my chest. "What i

stance between us. His large hand gripped my upper arm, pulling me toward the bedroom. Panic

The sharpened metal hairpin I had spent weeks grinding against

on, then back at me. The slight amusement in his eye

he murmured, his voice

ges this time. He took me with a cold, punishing clarity, stripping away my defenses and assert

poke, his breath ghosting over my ear. "I intercepted a

down at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. "I'll be sending for your father, Silas. He will come here, and he will kneel and kiss m

single shred of humanity in the monster who had just claimed me,

st night?" I whispered, my voice trembling a

aid flatly. "Consider it a lesson. You're lucky th

offered no solace. The agony in my knees was a

the suffocating silence. "T

there in pain," he commanded coldly. "Pain helps you

hed. I found Damien sitting in the small, enclosed courtyard, reviewing a thick financial

, blood-stained dress. "Go clean up," he ordered c

his use. Humiliation burned my throat, but survival demanded compliance. I walked hesit

violently agai

e. "What the hell are you doing?" he s

veness as he glared at my exposed skin, then shot a murderous look toward the shadows whe

r hands for dinn

sed in the courtyard, flushed with shame and a sudden,

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
Escaping the Pawn, Ensnaring the Don
Escaping the Pawn, Ensnaring the Don
“"My father sold me to a sixty-year-old monster to clear his gambling debts. So, I made a desperate gamble of my own." Seventeen-year-old Isabella Rossi has two choices: become the broken plaything of a sadistic mafia Capo, or do the unthinkable. She chooses the latter. Sneaking into a high-end speakeasy, she slips an aphrodisiac into the whiskey of the deadliest man in New York-Damien Falcone, the ruthless Underboss of the Falcone family. Her plan was simple: steal his seed, secure his protection, and run. But you don't drug a predator and expect to walk away. When Damien wakes up, he doesn't kill her. Instead, he claims her. "You intercepted a delivery meant for my enemy. Turns out, it was you. Now, you are my Collateral."”