All Chapters of Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Chapter 281 - Chapter 290

Michael’s POV Pain.It hit me in waves—sharp, stinging, relentless. The bullet hadn’t gone in, but it had grazed deep enough to rip through skin and flesh like a hot blade. My upper arm throbbed violently, and though I had managed to sit upright, the dizziness clawing at my vision made it feel like the room was swaying. Blood trickled steadily through the soaked fabric of my shirt. I was losing too much. Too fast.Across from me, Archer paced like a lion trapped in its own pride. His eyes wild, jaw clenched, no remorse, and no apology. Just bitter resentment and the stench of his own pride.“I think you’re some kind of hero, huh,” he muttered, kicking a wooden crate against the wall.“I’m not a hero,” I said through clenched teeth, suppressing a groan. My wrists were still bound behind me, but my voice, my pride, was free. “I took a bullet for someone i care about. You’re gonna throw a tantrum now?”He spun toward me, nostrils flaring. “Don’t act like a martyr, Michael. You’re the

Michael's POV The night was heavy with silence, the kind that presses against your skin like humidity. I lay on the soft mattress, my head cushioned against the warm fluff of Ashley’s guestroom pillows, but rest felt like a foreign concept. My shirt was off, and a thin blanket covered my legs. The faint murmur of voices downstairs filtered through the floorboards, but I couldn't make out the words. Probably Ashley talking to Nick. Probably about me. A soft knock came at the door. “Come in,” I said, voice rough. Ashley entered quietly, a small glass of water in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. “You’re going to be sore for a few days,” she said gently as she walked toward me, setting the water down on the nightstand. “I’ve had worse,” I muttered, though my body protested even that small admission. She sat beside me, dabbing antiseptic on a cotton pad. “Still hurts like hell though, doesn’t it?” I didn’t answer. She pressed the cotton to my wrist, and I flinched

Michael’s POV The throbbing in my arm hadn’t stopped since it was fixed by Ashley. The bandages were tight, a constant reminder that I had nearly died today—or maybe yesterday, I didn’t even know what time it was anymore. The painkillers had dulled the edge, but the ache still lived deep in the muscle, pulsing in time with my heartbeat like it was angry for being ignored. I should be in bed. Nick had told me that. Ashley had said the same. But as I sat on the couch staring at the pale wall across from me, I couldn’t shake one thought—Henry. I needed to see him. Even if he was asleep. Especially because he was asleep. I just wanted to see his face, to know he was okay. Maybe I just needed some part of today to feel… normal. I pushed myself up, wincing as the strain sent fire up my arm, and walked barefoot down the hallway. The house was quiet, cloaked in that strange midnight stillness that makes you feel like you’re trespassing even when it’s your own home. I gently opened

Michael’s POV The silence in the guest bedroom wrapped around me like a second skin—uncomfortable, hot, and too thick to breathe in.I sat on the edge of the bed, still fuming.The argument from earlier replayed in my head like a broken record.The humiliation burned through me like acid. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open snapped me out of my thoughts.Fernando stepped out, his dark hair damp, clinging to his forehead, a towel still around his neck. He looked fresh out of a storm—annoyed, tired, and… stupidly attractive in that wrinkled, brooding way that always seemed unintentional.But what caught my attention wasn’t his wet hair or the way his broad shoulders filled the doorway. It was what he did next.Instead of walking to the bed, he reached for one of the pillows and tossed it onto the floor, then grabbed the spare blanket from the chair and laid it out like he was preparing for war.I blinked. “What are you doing?”He didn’t answer at first, just sank to his kne

Michael's POV The kitchen light above flickered once, like it was struggling to catch its breath, and then glowed steadily. Cold air drifted from the half-open refrigerator, brushing against the sweat on my back. My hands were still clutched around the glass of water, but I hadn’t taken a single sip. Fernando was standing way too close—his breath, warm and fast, brushing against my cheek. His hand had just been on my chest a moment ago. I hadn’t pushed him away immediately. And that was the part I hated the most. I heard her before I saw her—bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, fast and angry, like a storm coming. The moment I turned, I knew we were caught. Ashley stood at the kitchen entrance, her arms crossed over her chest, her sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder. Her dark eyes flared with fury, and her voice cracked like a whip. “What the hell is happening here?” My whole body went cold. “Shit,” Fernando muttered. I shoved him back instinctively, as if put