Semua Bab Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Bab 171 - Bab 180

Michael’s POVI stood in the kitchen in silence, still shaking from the scene at the dockyard. Fernando hadn’t said a word since.He stood across from me now, leaning casually against the counter, his long fingers wrapped around a glass of alcohol. His gaze wasn’t on the drink, though. It was fixed entirely on me.I hated how beautiful he looked even in silence. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, his hair tousled from the wind outside, blood still drying at the edge of his collar. He was a monster in everyone else’s eyes. But right now, he just looked... tired.He stepped toward me, his palm brushing over my shoulder, fingers trailing down my arm like he was trying to feel my pulse through the skin.His hand lingered on my forearm, warm and firm. “Ashley’s scared,” he said. “She has every right to be.”“Please don’t,” I whispered, brushing him off. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”There was a pause, but he nodded. “Alright.”I swallowed hard, then gestured toward the gla

Fernando's POV I leaned back in the leather seat, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest as our car eased along the road leading up to my company. Well, what used to be mine. The building’s glass façade reflected the morning sun in long streaks across the windshield. Santiago sat beside me, looking straight ahead, quiet but alert. Marlo and Emilio were in the front seats, Marlo gripping the steering wheel with a nervous sort of calm.“Almost there,” Santiago muttered.I nodded once. “It’s strange,” I said, mostly to myself, “returning to something you built with your own hands, only to be questioned at the gate like a stranger.”As we came up to the front entrance, a metal checkpoint loomed before us. Two security guards stepped out, their hands raised to signal us to halt. They wore the bland navy blue uniforms that had been selected by a man who had no sense of style —Rodger. I clenched my jaw.Marlo lowered the window. “We’re here for a meeting. Let us throug

Ashley’s POVThe night air was warm, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket filled with memories.It was surreal—seeing Tasha, Melody, and Kendra again.We had once been inseparable, ruling the high school hallways as we whispered secrets, borrowed lip gloss, and dreams too big for our small town. Now we were women with careers, lovers, battles won and lost, yet somehow, tonight, the years folded in on themselves. For a few hours, we weren’t FBI agents, lawyers, nurses—we were just girls again, giddy with wine and memories."Remember how Mr. Callahan caught you sneaking into the teacher's lounge, Ash?" Melody giggled, nearly tripping over a crack in the pavement, her curls bouncing like they always had.I laughed, a real laugh that cracked the ice building in my chest. "I was looking for evidence of exam leaks! You all thought I was insane.""That’s because you were insane,” Tasha chimed in, nudging me playfully. “You ran mock interrogations in your basement, remember?""And poor

Ashley’s POVThe conference room was thick with tension before the meeting even began. The low hum of whispered conversations, the rustle of papers, and the constant clinking of ceramic mugs against the table filled the air with an ominous sense of urgency. I slid into the leather chair at the far end of the long oval table, positioned between the Deputy Director and an Agent. The weight of their authority pressed in on either side of me.The scent of fresh coffee was strong—too strong. It didn’t feel like comfort.Around me, several agents sat hunched over printed files, their faces filled with fatigue and a grim determination. Maps, mugshots, surveillance photos, and intelligence logs lay scattered across the table like puzzle pieces. Eyes met mine briefly, their expressions hard. But right now, we all had the same enemy.“Let’s get started,” Agent Whitaker announced as he stood, his voice tight and clipped. “There’s been a major development. Fernando Ramirez is rebuilding.”

Fernando's POV It was one of those rare nights when the silence felt heavier than sound. The kind of quiet that didn't come with peace—only with weight. The walls of Santiago's mansion were thick, designed to trap secrets, and yet tonight they felt like they were closing in on me, trying to trap something else. Maybe regret, maybe truth, or maybe just my ghosts.Michael had left my room in anger, earlier. His footsteps had faded down the hallway, sharp and angry. I had pretended to fall asleep after our argument—a tactical retreat. He was angry about the text. Ashley's text. And though I had given him a charming lie, a clean deflection, something told me he wasn't fooled. That man could read my silences better than anyone ever had.I sat up in bed now, alone. The sheets still smelled like Michael. He didn’t know I noticed, but I always did. Everything about him clung to my senses like it was branded into me. His anger lingered too.I ran my hand through my hair and stood, walk