Savage Hearts

Grab this morally gray mafia romance if you like:
🔥 Enemies-To-Lovers
🔥 Surprise Pregnancy
🔥 Alpha-Hole
🔥 Mafia
🔥 Mistaken Identity

Prologue:

All three of my brothers stood like statues in the circular drive outside Vincenzo’s house, their presence commanding and severe. Massimo’s hands were buried in his pockets, his body taut as a coiled spring. Despite his seemingly relaxed posture, I could see the tension radiating off him like a palpable force. Vincenzo, always the enforcer, stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his glare cutting through the distance between us, filled with unspoken fury and concern. My gaze shifted to Antonio, the youngest, whose face betrayed a raw mixture of emotions—relief shadowed by worry, like he was holding his breath, afraid to let it out.

“Wait here.” Tino’s voice was sharp as he parked the car, the order laced with an edge that brooked no argument. He stepped out, leaving me alone with my jumbled thoughts and the sight of my brothers through the windshield. They seemed like a silent jury, and I couldn’t read the verdict.

What happened next caught me off guard. Massimo, the stoic one, reached out and shook Tino’s hand, his head nodding in what seemed like gratitude. My shock doubled when Vincenzo, all storm and steel, swept past them and wrenched open my door. His arms enveloped me in a bruising hug that knocked the breath from my lungs. He was holding me so tightly, as if I might disappear if he let go.

“Celestina.” His voice was a rough whisper as he buried his face in my hair, his strong frame trembling against mine. “We thought we’d lost you.” There was a desperate edge to his words, a confession of fear he’d never normally allow. He pulled back slightly, his hands firm on my arms as his eyes darted over me, searching for any sign of harm. When he saw the oversized shirt I was wearing, his gaze turned feral, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Where the fuck are your clothes?”

“I don’t have any. This is Beckett’s shirt.” I tore free of his grasp, my voice breaking as I pushed past him.
“Where’s Beckett?” I demanded, my eyes locking onto Massimo as I stepped in front of him, my heart hammering with a new, urgent fear.

“Princesa, I told you to forget about him.” Tino’s tone was softer now, almost pleading as he glanced at Massimo, a silent request for help.

Massimo’s arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side, his warmth a stark contrast to the icy fear curling in my stomach. “Celestina, let’s go inside,” he murmured in a soothing voice, but I could hear the strain beneath it. “Madison and the others are waiting for you. You need to rest, get cleaned up. We’ll take care of everything else.” His gaze shifted to Tino, a glint of steel in his eyes. “We’ll be in touch about the agreement. Thank you for bringing our sister home."
."
Tino nodded, his expression unreadable as he got back into his car. “We’ll definitely be in touch. I’m looking forward to our new business deal, Massimo.” His words were calm, but there was something darker beneath them, a promise of things unsaid. He drove off, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

As soon as the car disappeared from sight, the fragile control I’d been clinging to shattered. A sob tore from my throat, my legs giving way beneath me. Massimo caught me effortlessly, his arms strong and secure as he lifted me.

He softly spoke, his voice a soothing remedy against the storm of emotions raging inside me. He carried me into the house, his steps sure and steady, while I crumbled in his arms.

The world blurred around me as I was laid gently on a soft mattress, familiar voices buzzing at the edge of my consciousness, but their words were lost in the torrent of my own sobs. I sensed a gentle hand on my shoulder providing stability, but all I could do was hold onto the material beneath me, my body quivering with every uneven breath.

I was dimly aware of voices around me, a chorus of concern that barely registered against the roar of my own grief. I sank onto the mattress, the familiar softness cradling me as if trying to soothe the turmoil inside. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, grounding me, pulling me out of the darkness I was slipping into.

“What do you need, Celestina? Are you hurt? Should I have Catarina come check you over?” Massimo’s voice, usually so steady and authoritative, now cracked with worry. The sight of his pained expression twisted the knife deeper into my chest.

“No,” I whispered, my voice raw. I couldn’t bear to look at him. His concern only made the ache worse. “There is nothing she can do to stop the pain.”

Antonio, with his quiet strength, climbed onto the bed beside me and pulled me into his embrace. I pressed my face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, a cruel reminder of how shattered mine was. His arms around me were solid and safe, but they weren’t the arms I wanted.

“What happened, Celestina?” His voice was a soft murmur against my hair.

“I fell in love with a man who doesn’t want me,” I choked out, the admission ripping through me like jagged glass. The tears came hot and fast, soaking into Antonio’s shirt. I despised my own weakness, my vulnerability, but I couldn't stop. The words were a torrent, unstoppable. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Love?” Massimo’s derisive snort sliced through the air. “Sweet girl, that man kidnapped you to hurt our family.”

“I know that.” I lifted my head, meeting his gaze with as much strength as I could muster. “But something changed. He went against Manuel Costa…for me.” The memory of Beckett’s defiance, the way he’d stood between me and danger, was a twisted, painful hope I clung to. “Where is he, Massimo? Where is Beckett?”

“It’s not important.” Massimo’s pacing betrayed the struggle he was trying to hide. His hand raked through his hair, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “What matters is you’re safe, and you’ll stay that way now that you’re home.”

His dismissal ignited a fire in me. I shoved Antonio away, anger propelling me off the bed. “You don’t get to fucking say what’s important!” I shoved past Massimo, my shoulder slamming into his as I stormed toward the bathroom, the fury consuming me.

I wasn’t surprised to find Carmela there, the door clicking shut behind her as she leaned against it, her eyes swimming with sympathy and concern. My twin. The other half of my soul. But right now, her pity felt like poison.

“Are you just going to stand there and fucking stare at me, or do you have something to say?” I spat, my temper flaring uncontrollably. I didn’t want her kindness; I wanted the pain to stop.

She crossed the small space between us and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her warmth. It was all I needed. The dam inside me broke, and I crumpled, my sobs echoing off the tiled walls as I buried my face in her shoulder.

“I thought I lost you, Cee.” Her voice was thick with tears, and the use of my nickname only made the flood worse. “What happened? One minute you were at the bar… the next…” She drew a shaky breath, her hold on me tightening as if afraid I might disappear again.

“I just wanted to feel in control for once,” I whispered, my voice breaking with the weight of everything I’d kept bottled up. “Massimo is always running people off, and Beckett… he wasn’t intimidated by who we are. It was thrilling… I didn’t realize it was all a game at first.” I pulled back, swiping angrily at the tears on my cheeks. “But then something changed. I fell in love with him, Carmela.”

“Seriously, Cee?” She stepped back, disbelief etched on her face. “Do you hear yourself? I’m pretty sure what you think is love is just Stockholm syndrome. That man is a monster, not a hero. A few days away from him, and you’ll see that.”

Her words hit like a slap, igniting a rage so intense it burned through the numbness. I jabbed my finger into her chest, my voice trembling with fury. “You don’t know how I feel. Beckett risked everything to save me. And you’re right, he isn’t the hero I wanted… but he was the monster I needed. Now, my heart—what’s left of it—beats unevenly because of him.”

Carmela’s face softened, her hand hovering over the doorknob as if she wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. “Just tell me how I can help you, Celestina. I don’t know what to do.”

The desperation in her eyes, the helplessness in her voice, twisted the knife deeper. I scoffed, bitter laughter spilling out as I turned away. “There is nothing you can do to fix this. Nothing anyone can do.” My hands moved to the hem of Beckett’s shirt, the last piece of him I had. I pulled it over my head, the fabric falling to the floor like a discarded memory. I turned on the shower, the icy spray hitting my skin, sharp and punishing.

“There is absolutely nothing you can do to rid me of the pain I feel… there is no gluing my soul or taping my carnage heart together ever again.”

The water beat down on me, mingling with my tears, and I stood there, letting the cold needle into my bones, wishing it could numb the agony tearing me apart from the inside.

My thoughts strayed to Beckett. Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for my captor—and he’d fallen for me. At least, I was pretty sure he had, even if he hadn’t said so. I squeezed my eyes closed, and like a demon, I conjured him up.

We had slipped into a dangerous rhythm. He was the hunter, and I was his prey. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, his hand wrapping around my throat, pinning me to the wall. His grip wasn’t gentle—it never was. My breath came in short gasps as I struggled to take in enough air.

“Come to watch me, sugar?” His voice was low and gravelly, sending shivers down my spine.
His pet name for me washed over my skin, eliciting gooseflesh to erupt.

My skin prickled under the weight of his pet name, goosebumps rising despite the heat between us. “Maybe I came to kill you,” I rasped out, my words choked as I fought for breath.

Beckett pressed his knee between my legs and leaned against me.

His knee pushed between my legs, his body pressing harder against mine. “Unless strangling my cock with that pretty little pussy of yours is your plan to kill me, I think I’m safe.”

I wanted to hate him. I did hate him. But my body betrayed me every single time. His hand slipped under the cotton shirt I was wearing—his shirt, because he’d kidnapped me with nothing but a skimpy dress and heels. And like always, he ripped it right off me, the sound of fabric tearing filling the small space. Beckett has destroyed more shirts than I could count.

“You’re going to run out of shirts if you keep doing that.”

The sound of Carmela knocking on the door stirred me from the nightmare of my shattered heart and I turned off the water. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

I swallowed hard, wiping my face, even though it was impossible to tell if the wetness was from the shower or my own tears. "Yeah," I croaked, though the lie felt heavier on my tongue than the silence that followed. I stared at my discarded shirt on the floor, a ghost of him clinging to the fabric. It wasn’t just the shirt he had torn apart, it was me. And no matter how many times I tried to shake him off, he was always there, lurking in the corners of my mind, filling the cracks I couldn’t hide.

"Yeah," I repeated, my voice hollow as I pulled the towel around my shaking body. But the truth hung in the air, as thick and suffocating as the steam in the room—I was not okay. I wasn’t sure I ever would be again.