All Chapters of Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don: Chapter 331 - Chapter 340

Michael’s POV The night air hung heavy with stillness, broken only by the buzzing neon sign at the edge of the roadside motel. Everything around us was bathed in hush—muffled by the thick veil of darkness and the shallow breaths of sleeping bodies behind thin motel walls. I could still hear the sounds of crickets in the distance, as though nature itself was warning me to tread carefully. Marlo’s grip on my wrist was firm, too firm. His knuckles whitened with intensity as he held on like a desperate man trying to keep control of something already slipping away. "My conversation with Fernando concerning Henry is none of your business. Henry is feeling bad and I need to talk to his father" I said, my eyes locked on Marlo. Marlo’s smile faded. “You think this is all on him?” “Henry thinks his own father doesn’t love him. So yeah, I would say Fernando has some damn explaining to do.” “Love doesn’t always look the way you want it to.” “No. But it sure as hell shouldn’t look l

Michael’s POV Morning crept in gently, like fingers peeling back the edges of a soft, gray blanket. Henry's tiny body was curled beneath the worn motel blanket, his face pressed into my side, mouth slightly parted as he snored in that soft, almost melodic way only little kids could. My heart ached.Yesterday had been a mess. Between Fernando’s mouth, the arguments in the car, and the emotional toll on Henry, I had expected the boy to cry himself to sleep. But he hadn’t. I reached out, brushing a small curl off his forehead.“Michael…” he mumbled sleepily, his little fingers gripping my shirt.“I’m here,” I whispered.He blinked his eyes open—those same deep brown eyes that mirrored Fernando’s, but warmer.“Good morning!” he said brightly.“Morning, buddy.” I smiled. “Sleep okay?”“Yep! This bed is weird, but I had the best dreams. I dreamt we were riding dinosaurs.” He sat up, stretching his little arms toward the ceiling.“So,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow, “you still

Fernando’s POV The click of hammers being pulled back was the only sound in the open-air silence.Five Serpents. All armed. All aiming.Their greasy jackets flapped lightly in the desert wind like flags over unclaimed graves. They had circled us near the vending machine, guns drawn, each one twitching like they were praying for an excuse to shoot.The sun was barely past the ridge, but already the heat was crawling on the back of my neck. Across from me, their leader, judging by the ego stinking off him, kept his gun pointed one of my bodyguards. The others shifted their aim between Marlo, Mortis, Emilio, and the other guard. But I was the one they wanted to talk to. I always was."You wanna explain what the fuck this is?" I asked, keeping my voice low, calm, like oil running smooth over a blade.The leader didn’t blink.“That ink,” he growled, gesturing to my bodyguard with the tip of his pistol. “Right there on his goddamn hand.”I didn’t need to look. I already knew what he was t

Fernando’s POV The gunfire had stopped, but the taste of gunpowder still lingered on my tongue. My men were cleaning up, dragging their bodies away, covering up the damage like we always did. Routine and efficient. But my mind wasn’t on the blood.It was on Michael.And the way he had looked at me before storming off. Like I was poison. Like I was a threat.Like I was the enemy.I lit a cigarette, my hands still shaking from the rush of adrenaline. Marlo walked up beside me, wiping sweat from his brow, his gun still in hand. His white shirt was stained with red, but it wasn't his blood.Marlo looked at me, frowning slightly. “You alright, boss?”I didn’t answer. I could feel the question underneath his words. He knew I wasn’t alright.“I’m thinking about Michael,” I said finally, exhaling smoke into the humid night air.Marlo made a sound in his throat—part growl, part scoff. “Why do you care what he thinks? He’s not one of us. He’s not blood.”“He was there,” I said. “He helped r

Fernando’s POV I stood on the cracked sidewalk, watching the taillights of Ashley’s car disappear into the night. The red glow pulsed once, twice, then faded into the distance until it was swallowed completely by the dark. The cold stretch of the road felt infinite, like a road leading not just away from me—but away from everything I had left. Above my head, the flickering motel sign buzzed its dull neon hum. The sun cast a sickly, uneven light over my boots, making the cracks in the pavement look deeper than they were. My jaw ached from the tension. I hadn’t realized I had been clenching it so hard until I tasted copper on my tongue. They had Henry, my son, and I was stuck here. The air was sharp with the faint tang of coming rain, mingling with the stale scent of gasoline drifting from the nearby highway. The sound of passing cars came in waves—sometimes a low hum, sometimes the sharp hiss of tires tearing through puddles further down the road. Each one felt like a taunt,