Todos los capítulos de Owned By The Don : Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

The light filtered through the penthouse curtains in a slow, golden creep, painting the sheets in soft warmth. Raven blinked awake, her body heavy, limbs tangled in linen and muscle. Jaxon’s arm was draped across her waist, anchoring her against him. His chest rose and fell steadily against her back, his heat seeping into her bones like a balm.For once, there was no urgency, no hunger driving them forward. Just the quiet hum of his breath and the weight of his presence.Raven turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his forearm. The bruises on her throat and the marks dotting her skin were reminders of the night before, violent, consuming, primal, but this morning, the Don was simply a man. Her man, if she let herself believe it.She closed her eyes again, willing herself not to replay his words, but they came anyway, unbidden, sharp as glass and soft as silk."My heartbeat. My amor."The memory of his voice, roughened by desire, cracked open with something more raw that

The penthouse was quiet when Jaxon returned from the club. The silence wasn’t peace; it was the kind that clung like fog after a battlefield. Raven was curled on the sofa, knees drawn up, her journal lying open but untouched beside her. She looked up when the elevator doors whispered shut, eyes searching him the way a diver searches for air.He didn’t say anything at first. His coat slid from his shoulders with a practiced motion, and he draped it over the back of a chair. His hands flexed as though he wanted to crush something in them, then loosened. The glass coffee table caught the strain of his reflection, distorted in its surface like his thoughts.“Anything?” Raven asked, her voice too soft, too tentative.Jaxon’s jaw worked. “Interpol’s net is tightening. A week, maybe less, before they force their way into my operations.” His tone was flat, but underneath it, there was a growl. “And Zane knows it. He’s pushing, testing me in every corner.”Raven shifted, setting her feet on th

The night was heavy with smoke and bass as Raven and Jaxon stepped out of Club Eden. The city was alive around them, horns, laughter, the smear of neon lights, but to Raven it all sounded distant, muffled, like the world was holding its breath. Jaxon’s hand was firm on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd, his body a wall of quiet authority.Inside, he’d been tense all night. She felt it in the way his gaze scanned corners, in the clipped answers he gave men who bowed their heads when he passed. Zane’s phone call still clung to them both, poisonous and lingering, and though Jaxon wore his composure like armor, Raven could sense the fury roiling beneath it.“Keep your head down,” he murmured as they reached the curb. His voice was low, the timbre of command that wasn’t for debate.Raven obeyed, though her spine stiffened. She’d grown used to danger, but the way he said it set her nerves ablaze. Viktor was already outside, speaking into his earpiece, scanning the street.

The penthouse was quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Neon lights from the city below splintered across the polished marble, flickering like distant, dying stars. Raven’s hands were wrapped around Jaxon’s arm as he leaned heavily on her, each step deliberate, measured. The hospital gown had been replaced with a tailored shirt, blood-stained bandages hidden beneath, and a dark blazer to mask the bruising that had not yet faded. He moved slower than usual, but there was a spark in his gaze, the quiet, insidious power that no amount of weakness could fully contain.“You’re heavier than you look,” she muttered, voice strained. Her arms burned with the effort of holding him upright, supporting him into the elevator.Jaxon gave her a half-smile, one corner of his lips twitching. “I’m not fragile, Vixen. Just… strategic.” The word carried his usual edge, but it was tempered with a hint of exhaustion, a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.The eleva

When the door clicked shut behind Zane and the echo of his footsteps faded into the concrete belly of the warehouse, the stillness felt like a held breath. Raven sat very still for a long time, feeling the straps bite into the soft underside of her wrists. Her voice had been thin the moment she said it, "if I burn, I’ll burn with him", but the words had landed, hard and true. They’d done something to the room. They’d done something to Zane. Now she had to make them mean more than defiance.The leather around her wrists was not meant to restrain a body so much as to test a mind. Zane didn’t rough her up; that was never his style. He liked to build illusions, a chair by the radiator, a bowl of soup left unguarded, a cigarette he’d offer when she played the right, trembling part of herself. Power, for him, had always been theater. He’d kidnapped her not to brutalize her into silence but to rewrite her story, to make her admit, on record, what the public whispers could not. To make her lo