All Chapters of Possessed by the Devil: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

LeonThe rain started up again just before noon. I remember because I could hear it smacking the windows behind me, steady and soft like fingers drumming on glass. My office was quiet except for that. The building always felt colder when it rained, even with the heater on. Still, I didn’t move from the chair.I had papers open in front of me, files I’d gone through twice already, but I kept pretending to read them. My mind wasn’t on the numbers. It hadn’t been all week. I could still feel Tamara’s kiss on my mouth from this morning. That stupid soft look she gave me when she asked if I’d eaten. Like I'm still worried. Like we weren’t both pretending this shit wasn’t eating us alive.I rubbed the back of my neck, then leaned back, staring at the ceiling. And right then, like the universe had a fucked-up sense of timing, the knock came.Just one. Sharp.I already knew it wasn’t her. She has refused to come out even with Sean like used to, just to come see me at work. Tamara never knocke

TamaraI had begged Leon to allow Jasper to visit, then he could go back for the last time as he promised and Leon agreed, I know it was to make happy. But Jasper pushed for this because he thought he needed more time to make me see reasons to leave this place and join in his plans. But, I just wanted to see my little brother, maybe the reality will be less real."Your brother is here" Martha informed me as I sat watching the TV, I nodded.He came in, standing there in dark jeans and a wrinkled black tee, hands in his pockets, no scowl on his face, I knew something was different.He didn’t speak first. Just gave me that look—serious, unreadable, annoying in its calmness.“You want water or something?” I asked, mostly for the sake of having something to say.He shook his head. “Nah. Just... upstairs?”I frowned. “What, like, my room?”He gave a half shrug. “Unless you want to do this down here.”I hesitated. The house was too damn quiet. Leon was out. Business. Or whatever the hell he

TamaraThe first thing I felt when I woke up was the weight of Leon’s arm around my waist. He held me like he always did, heavy and sure, like I belonged there and nowhere else. His grip was tight enough to make it impossible to slip away without him noticing. Sometimes it comforted me. Sometimes it trapped me.The room was quiet except for his breathing. The curtains were only half drawn, and the morning light leaked through in thin lines, cutting across the floorboards. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the faint patterns on the ceiling. I tried not to think. I tried not to let the memory of last night crawl back—the flash of the video, my father’s voice, the gunshot that tore through everything I thought I knew.My chest tightened. I rolled my face toward him instead, forcing myself to focus on him. His hair was messy, falling across his forehead. His jaw was rough, darker with stubble. His mouth was parted slightly, breath warm against my shoulder. He looked peaceful like

TamaraI knew something was off the moment I stepped into the living room that evening. The lights were dimmed, and there was a faint glow spilling from the balcony. I could hear soft music playing, the kind of old jazz Leon liked to put on when he was in one of his moods. It wasn’t blasting, just low and steady, like it was meant to creep under my skin without me realizing.My chest tightened. He’d done something.When I walked toward the balcony, I froze at the doorway. The table was set with candles, real ones, not the cheap electric ones. Two wine glasses, already poured. Plates with food that still steamed, which meant he had either forced someone in the kitchen to hurry or he had planned this carefully. Either way, it unsettled me. Leon wasn’t the type to wait around patiently for things. He was the type to take.He turned as if he’d been waiting for me to notice him, his shirt sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. He was holding himself too casually, like he wanted me to belie

TamaraThe television was left on in the corner of the living room. The sound was low, but the images flashing across the screen were loud enough in my head. Naples. Explosions. Fire eating through the skeleton of a warehouse. A reporter’s voice repeating what I already knew: retaliation.I sat curled on the couch with a blanket pulled over my lap, though I wasn’t cold. My eyes followed the flames on the screen like they could burn through me too. I knew where it started. That night at the ball. The bomb Leon had ordered. The chaos that followed.Blood for blood.It wasn’t my world, not really, but I was in the middle of it now. Every image felt like it had his fingerprints on it. Still, I forced my face blank, trained my body not to react. When I heard his footsteps behind me, I smoothed the blanket, sat straighter, pretended like I was only half watching.“You’re up early,” he said. His voice was scratchy from sleep.I turned my head, gave him a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”His ey