All Chapters of Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

Fernando's POV The cold hardwood floor was the first thing I became aware of when I opened my eyes. That, and the pain screaming across my lower back. I groaned, shifting just a little, but it sent a shock of discomfort straight up my spine. My blanket had twisted around me in the night, tangled and half off my body, the pillow barely doing anything for my neck. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “Great idea, genius.” Sleeping on the floor had felt like a power move last night. Dramatic, final, and righteous. After Michael called our kiss a mistake in front of Ashley, I couldn’t just crawl into the same bed as him and pretend it didn’t sting like hell. But now, with the light of morning crawling in through the blinds and my entire body aching like I had been in a car crash, the gesture felt a lot less poetic. I sat up, wincing. My joints popped like old wood under pressure. Michael was still in the bed, turned away from me, the blanket tucked around him like a cocoon. His ch

Archer’s POV The waves were restless today. It was not the kind that soothed or whispered you into calm—their crashing roared against the jagged rocks like fists, like threats. The bright morning sun painted a golden slash across the ocean, reflecting light into the wide glass windows of my beach house. But even that light made me uneasy. I hadn’t slept. I actually couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I had tried all night. And not because I wasn’t tired. No, I was bone-tired, worn out, and frayed, but my mind wouldn't shut off. It spun like a carousel, flashing memories I couldn’t scrub from my brain no matter how many glasses of scotch I drank. Michael’s face, twisted in panic as the bullet collided with his flesh. The bruises on his skin when I pushed things too far. Suddenly, I started to get all up in my head into what was going to happen anytime now. I could almost visualise the look in Fernando’s eyes when he realized what I had done. No. There was no time to rest e

Archer’s POV The sun was merciless this morning. It spilled across the ocean, too bright, too clean—like it was trying to wash away everything I did last night. But there’s no light bright enough to erase blood. Or guilt. Especially not when the man I was in love with was now walking up my steps. Fernando Ramirez. He was a murderer, lover, and goddamn force of nature. I had seen the glint in his eyes even from the balcony. That fire, restrained but dangerous. He wasn’t just here for a visit. His presence crackled in the air, stirring up the ghosts that still haunted this house. And me. I turned away from the railing before the door opened. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Not pale, not trembling, not with my eyes still sore and the painkillers making my head swim. Fernando hated weakness. I moved fast, shoving the pill bottle under a stack of papers, dragging on a black linen shirt, fingers fumbling slightly at the buttons. My reflection in the hallway mirror loo

Fernando’s POV Michael had always been the calm one. The anchor. The man with iron veins and a voice like a soothing balm. But in this moment, crouched on the floor of the living room with Henry wrapped tightly in his arms, I saw something else flicker behind his eyes. It was fear. Not for himself. But for the boy trembling against his chest. Henry’s small hands clutched Michael’s shirt with a desperation that cut through me sharper than the sniper’s bullet had cut through the quiet. Henry was silent now, but I could still hear the echo of his scream ringing in my ears. My heart slammed against my ribs like a caged beast. I remained crouched low, my back pressed against the cold wall, my body hidden just beside the window. I hadn’t dared to move since that last shot was fired. “Shh,” Michael murmured to Henry, his voice low and warm. “It’s okay, champ. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Henry hiccupped. “But—there was a gun… someone sho

Archer's POV The low hum of jet engines vibrated under my shoes as my men moved like shadows, hauling my custom leather trunks, garment bags, and polished silver cases into my private jet. Their faces were sharp with precision, eyes trained and movements calculated—just the way I liked it. I didn’t hire men who asked questions. I stood at the base of the stairs, my hands buried in the pockets of my dark tailored coat, watching with detached amusement as if this was all part of some movie I wasn’t really invested in. The air was thick with heat and jet fuel. It smelled like wealth, power and escape. Harold stood beside me, rigid as ever in his gray three-piece suit, the wind barely ruffling his snowy hair. He was my butler, my confidante and my conscience, when I chose to have one. He was the only person in the world who dared to look me in the eyes and frown. And right now, he was frowning so hard it looked like his face was going to crack in two. "You shouldn't have done i