Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 258

Chapter 258: My Sister Needs Me

She yanked at him with everything she had left. Kicking. Struggling. Fighting.

"Stop! Fucking stop!" Luca barked.

But Veronica didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her hands clung to him, her body pressing against his as she tried to pull him back, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Luca, my sister needs me!" she cried. "She needs me. She’s going to have a baby. Don’t make me leave her—don’t make me leave her!" Her grip tightened. "I’m begging you!"

"Like I said," he replied, "your choice. You can shoot me, Vee," he added. "And Marco will open that door, and you will walk out of here—and nothing will happen to you."

Veronica shook her head immediately, her grip loosening just enough for her to look at him fully, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. "I can’t... I can’t..." she whispered. Her gaze dropped briefly to the gun on the table.

Then back to him.

"I love you," she said, the words breaking apart as they came out. "YOU." Her hands moved from pulling at him to clutching onto him instead. "I wouldn’t hurt you either," she continued, shaking her head. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I promised—I promised I would listen to you from now on. I did, didn’t I?"

"I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I cannot take your word for it."

"Luca—"

But she was too late. With one swift, decisive motion— Luca hit the red button on the wall.

A sharp click echoed through the bunker.

"Luca!" Veronica screamed.

The sound tore out of her, raw and full of terror as the sharp whoosh echoed through the bunker. Her eyes snapped toward the ventilator, watching in horror as the system reversed—no longer feeding air into the room, but pulling it out.

She could feel a shift in pressure. "What have you done?" she cried, her voice shaking as she turned back to him.

"The only thing I can, Vee."

The reality settled in slowly, crushingly. Her legs gave out. She sank back onto the sofa, her body suddenly heavy, her breaths coming faster than they should. Panic clawed at her chest, urging her to breathe more, to take in as much air as she could.

Her hands pressed into her thighs as she tried to steady herself.

"You have to take small breaths," Luca said, watching her closely. "We don’t want to exhaust the oxygen quicker."

The clinical way he said it made it worse.

"Or," he added after a moment, gesturing slightly toward the table, "you could just pick up the gun and get this over with."

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