All Chapters of Possessed by the Devil: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

LeonThe second I saw the doctor’s face, I knew it was bad.He didn’t need to say a damn word. The way his eyes landed on Tamara, bloodied, barely breathing, told me everything. No questions. No fucking delay. His bag hit the floor, and he was already barking orders.“Help me lift her.”I didn’t hesitate. I was already on my knees beside her, hands under her back, her skin clammy and slick with blood. I could barely feel her pulse now. It was faint. Faint and slipping. Like she was already halfway out the door and I was the idiot still holding it open.We laid her on the portable stretcher. Her head lolled to the side.“Don’t close your eyes,” I muttered. “Don’t fucking do that.”She didn’t respond.Not even a twitch.The doctor looked at me. “Her pressure is dropping. Fast. She needs surgery. Now.”I followed as they wheeled her out, my steps uneven. My throat burned like I’d swallowed glass. Sean grabbed his keys. Another guard was already opening the SUV. The doctor barked somethin

LeonSean’s voice sounded too casual for the weight of what he just said.“She’s not around the estate, boss. We’ve checked everywhere. Her car’s gone. No sign of her inside or out. Maybe she ran back to her father’s place.”I stood dead center of the room, hands shoved in my pockets, trying to stay still, trying to breathe through the red-hot rage spiraling like barbed wire in my gut.Ran?She ran?After everything? After the fucking knife? After almost killing Tamara, she had the audacity to run?Sean lingered a few feet from me, sharp enough not to meet my eyes. Smart. If he did, he’d see it. The storm waiting to blow.“She ran,” I repeated, voice low, nearly calm, but the kind of calm that came before glass shattered. “After what she did… she ran?”Sean gave a small nod. “Her father’s estate is likely. We’re tracing cameras, doing a quiet sweep.”I dragged a hand over my face. My jaw tightened so hard it clicked. “Find her.”“We’re on it.”“No, Sean. I mean find her. I want her lo

LeonI couldn't leave Tamara's side,not even for a second.Tamara was back home, yeah, but that didn’t mean shit to me. Not when she couldn’t sleep more than thirty minutes without crying out. Not when she winced just from sitting up. Not when she looked at me like she was trying so hard to be okay for me—but I could see she wasn’t.She wasn’t.I was supposed to be at a meeting that morning. Big deal. One of those partnerships I’d been grooming for over a year. Money, expansion, branding—the works.But Tamara woke up at 5:12 a.m. breathing like she’d just run through fire.And that was it for me.I sat on the bed, holding her hand while she cried in silence. She couldn’t even sob out loud. Just quiet tears slipping down her face while she stared at the ceiling like she was trying not to exist.This whole mess was my fault. If I had just kept that bitch in her place. If I hadn’t looked the other way when Sheila started spiraling. If I hadn’t underestimated what Tamara meant to me—what

LeonThe day started with a headache and a half-finished drink from the night before. I’d left Tamara with Martha, told her I had business. Truth was, I just didn’t want her in my space. Not today, everything was totally fucked in the past few days and it's messing with my head.Something was off. Something had been off for days. Someone was poking at my shipments, scratching at the surface like a fucking rat looking for a way in. I needed answers. Fast.I lit a cigarette and stared at the files spread out on my desk. My hacker pulled data from comms, satellites, everything short of God’s diary. But the leads weren’t connecting clean. Too neat. That’s how I knew someone was covering their tracks well.I heard the door open. Didn’t look up.Only one person walks into my office like they’re afraid I’ll shoot first and ask later.Sean. He took a seat in front of me, his body relaxed on the back of the chair in a position that screams exhaustion.That told me everything I needed to know b

LeonThe warehouse smelled like old metal and gasoline, real thick, the kind that clings to your skin no matter how long you scrub. I stood near the edge of the railing on the second floor, looking down at the layout one last time. Crates—empty. Trucks, stationary. Lights dimmed, just enough to bait curious eyes. It was all exactly how I needed it."He's gonna send someone," I muttered under my breath. I could already feel it in my gut. "That arrogant bastard can't resist a big fucking score."Sergio stood beside me, his arms crossed, eyes hard. "You sure about this?""No." I lit a cigarette and let the smoke burn the back of my throat. "But it's the only way I’m gonna flush out that snake.”We’d spread the word two nights ago through a mole who didn’t even exist. Word on the street was that Leon's crew scored a truckload of Russian arms and was dumb enough to warehouse it in an unsecured dock. We made sure the story leaked to one of Don Casey’s lower-rung street dogs…the kind who tal