Chapter summary of Chapter 227 – Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles by Free Collection
In Chapter 227, a key chapter of the acclaimed Alpha novel Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles by Free Collection, readers are drawn deeper into a story filled with emotion, conflict, and transformation. This chapter brings crucial developments and plot twists that make it essential reading. Whether you’re new to the book or a loyal fan, this section delivers unforgettable moments that define the essence of Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles.
Chapter 227
Aria’s POV
The name on the screen would not stop burning into my eyes.
Cassandra.
My sister.
For a second I thought I had read it wrong. My mind refused to make sense of it. Cassandra was calling. Cassandra, who I had blocked. Cassandra, who had not spoken to me in so long. Why her name, flashing on their phone? Why her, now?
My stomach twisted as if something sharp had cut through me. Slowly, I lifted my gaze from the screen to the triplets. They were already looking at me. Their faces gave nothing away but I saw it in their eyes, the flicker, the shared glance that passed between them. They knew something.
“Why is she calling you?” My voice came out low and rough, almost breaking.
None of them spoke. They just stood there, silent, their eyes darting between one another, waiting for someone else to speak.
“Why,” I repeated, sharper, louder, my throat tightening. “Why is Cassandra calling you?”
Still nothing. The silence grew heavy. My pulse pounded in my ears. I could not breathe with the weight of it. I opened my mouth to demand again, but the sound of footsteps burst into the room.
A guard. His face pale, his voice shaking. “Something happened to Chiara.”
The words sliced through everything else.
The triplets moved at once, the silence gone, replaced with chaos. They sprinted past me, up the stairs, their feet pounding against the floor. My body moved before my mind caught up, chasing after them, stumbling, gasping, my heart already hammering so hard it hurt.
We reached her door. They were banging, shouting her name, their fists slamming against the wood. No answer.
“Chiara!” My own voice joined theirs, high and desperate. Nothing.
The knocking turned violent, fists against the wood, louder and louder. Dante slammed his shoulder into the door once, twice, then a third time. The frame cracked. With a final crash the door burst open, swinging wide.
I froze in the doorway.
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