The Mafia Bride (Katrina and Silas)

Chapter 118

Chapter 118

Katrina’s POV

“Get in there,” One of the men grunted, pulling me harshly.

“Let me go! Silas won’t you off,” I growled, still fighting to free myself from their hold.

When they heard what I had said, they threw their head back and laughed, their body shaking with each fit of laughter.

What?

“What are the chances Silas would be coming back from the dead? You have no one to save you now girl,” One of the men said, pushing me into the room.

I stumbled forward as the guards shoved me inside, my knees hitting the hard floor. The sharp sting of pain shot up reg, but I refused to let out a sound. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

What was that he said now? Something about Silas being unable to save me now?

“Is Silas okay?“I asked, turning sharply to meet their gaze. There’s no way something had happened to Silas, no fucking way.

And yet, when their nonchalant gaze met mine, I didn’t know what to believe.

“It has to be a lie,” I whispered. I refused to believe it. The first drop of my tears fell onto my trembling hands, and I stared at it in disbelief.

I was… crying?

I didn’t believe the tear drop belonged to me till another drop slid down my cheeks, falling on the same spot.

“I would say it was good riddance. Someone who has a weak link cannot lead this mafia,” one of the men said and my head shot

up, my eyes widening in disbelief.

How could he say that?

I screamed, hot tears streaming down

they both looked bored as they watched me crying over the man who kidnapped

  • me.

flatly, as if he was talking about the weather

mind spun, refusing

choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I stumbled back, the room spinning

-he can’t be.

Phillip decides what he wants

shut, covering the room

for a moment, trying to steady my breathing but it was hard to do so

I

no way I’d be in love with Silas. No way I’d fall love with my

1/8

I looked at it, it seemed that I had fallen

to sink in and once again, thank

to my

the death of Silas, cried for the death of

cried for the unjust ways I was being treated and I cried

all the torrents to be let out, and that

hours? I had no idea. But I had stopped crying just sat there, waiting for what was supposed to

trying to figure out if

at

77%

point and

take me straight to death and

a wooden chair in the corner and it looked worn and splintered.

I sunk back to the floor when I

even care if I was innocent. To them, I was just an obstacle–a problem they wanted gone and

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