Lahat ng Kabanata ng Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

Fernando's POVThe sky had begun to show orange colours in the bruised blue of dusk by the time Santiago and I were on our way back to the mansion after a tiring day.The meeting with his contacts that would secure me more men had been productive—more than that, it had been satisfying in the kind of way only power-hungry men could truly appreciate. These men weren't just random mercenaries or gunrunners; these were hardened soldiers, men who could and would follow orders without question, without hesitation, with only the cold promise of blood and gold.I sat in the backseat of Santiago's black car, my head resting against the smooth leather, fingers drumming rhythmically against my thigh. Santiago was in the passenger seat while one of his trusted guards drove. The car hummed steadily beneath us, slicing through the road like a predator through darkness."That went well," Santiago said, turning slightly to face me. "They'll pledge themselves within the week."I smirked, but my voi

Micheal's POV The morning light crept into the vast halls of Santiago’s mansion with a quiet sort of arrogance—much like Fernando himself. I made my way to the dining room slowly, still nursing the complicated emotions from last night. Slapping Fernando hadn’t been something I planned, but it had happened. It had left a mark—not on his skin, but between us. I could feel it like a weight pressing down on my chest.The scent of coffee, toast, and grilled steak guided me forward. As I stepped into the spacious dining room, the long mahogany table came into view, bathed in sunlight from the tall, arched windows. Fernando and Santiago were already seated. Fernando, unsurprisingly, looked perfect even with a faint bandage on his temple. His posture was regal, his fingers methodically cutting into a piece of steak. Santiago looked more relaxed, chatting idly with a smirk on his face.“Good morning,” I said carefully, glancing between them.“Morning,” Santiago replied with a slight

Michael’s POVThe restaurant’s soft golden lights spilled out from its tall glass windows, casting long shadows on the pavement as our car came to a stop.The scent of garlic, basil, and baked bread lingered in the air, and faint classical music hummed from within. The atmosphere truly spoke of nothing less than luxury. I stepped out first, smoothing the front of my suit. The breeze was soft tonight, the kind that wrapped around you like silk.I adjusted my cuffs and looked around, a low whistle escaping me. “Damn,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “Santiago really knows how to pick a good restaurant. This place looks like a dream.”Fernando stepped out after me, his black-on-black suit making his broad frame appear even more commanding. He glanced up at the ornate signage above the entrance and shrugged casually.“It’s nice,” he said, brushing nonexistent lint off his shoulder. “But I have been to much fancier places. Still, I’ll give him this one. It’s got charm.”I gave him a sid

Michael's POVI stormed out of the restaurant like a man possessed, each step echoing with frustration against the polished pavement. I didn’t bother looking back. I didn’t need to. If Fernando was following me, I would have heard his smug, arrogant footsteps by now. But he wasn’t.Of course he wasn’t.I stopped at the edge of the parking lot, standing next to the sleek black car we had arrived in. I would have sat inside, shut the door, and tried to breathe, but I was too angry. Too humiliated. Ethan didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything except show up and do his job. Yet Fernando, in all his typical cruelty, had treated him like garbage. And for what? Jealousy? Ego? Spite?I wanted to get as far away from that restaurant—and from Fernando—as possible.I'm sure Ashley would be laughing at me now.I wanted to leave, but I didn’t. I just stood there, leaning against the passenger door, crossing my arms and staring out at the glowing city skyline. The neon signs of nearby

Michael’s POVMy stomach still hurt from the punch—a hard, unforgiving blow that had stolen my breath and curled me inward like a fist. The dull ache pulsed under my ribs, a constant reminder of just how far Rodger was willing to go. I leaned slightly against the seat, trying not to wince, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much pain I was in.I glanced at him. He was smirking. Not the kind of smirk you give when you win—no. This one was slower, more personal. Like he was watching something unfold exactly as he wanted it to."Well," he said finally, slipping the phone back into his coat, "that went about as I expected."I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. My jaw tightened, grinding against anger and frustration."You’re pissed," he said casually, like he was pointing out the weather."What do you think?" I snapped. "You had me punched and shoved into a car. And now you’re taking me God knows where.""Technically, you're not so bad. Just bruised.