Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
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Chapter 3
Michael's POV
The bright lights of the supermarket shined above me, casting a white glow over the neatly stocked shelves.
The scent of freshly baked bread and aroma filled the air, an odd contrast to the tension twisting inside my chest.
I pushed the shopping cart down the aisle, gripping the handle so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Ashley strolled beside me, scanning the shelves for something sweet.
She was humming softly, utterly at ease, completely unaware-or maybe just ignoring-how fucking angry I was.
I turned to her, exhaling sharply.
"I let him intimidate me" I said.
Ashley grabbed a bag of gummy bears and tossed it into the cart without looking at me.
"Mhm."
I scowled.
"Don't mhm me. You don't get it."
She finally turned to face me, her lips twitching.
"Oh, I get it." Her voice was laced with amusement, which only fueled my frustration. "Fernando caught you sneaking out of Marlo's room half-dressed, and he played with you like a cat with a mouse."
I gritted my teeth.
"That's not funny."
Ashley chuckled.
"It's a little funny."
I slammed a box of cereal into the cart harder than necessary, making a few customers glance our way.
I ignored them, my jaw tightening.
Ashley sighed, her amusement softening when she saw how tense I was.
"Look, Michael, I get it. It pisses you off that he got under your skin." She touched my arm gently, grounding me. "But you're still in the game. That's what matters."
I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down.
"I just- I hate that I was afraid of him. Even for a second."
Ashley's blue eyes searched mine, and I could see the empathy there. She was the only person who truly understood why this case meant everything to me. Why failing wasn't an option.
She lowered her voice.
"Michael, fear isn't weakness. It keeps you alive."
I looked away, staring at the rows of canned soup like they held all the answers.
"I don't want to be afraid of him."
"Then don't be," she said simply. "But don't be reckless either."
I scoffed.
"You think I'm reckless?"
Ashley crossed her arms.
"You had sex with Marlo to get a party invitation, didn't you?"
I winced.
"I had to."
She smirked.
"Uh-huh. And how was it?" she asked and I could see the amusement in her eyes.
I shot her a glare.
"Don't."
Ashley burst into laughter, attracting even more unwanted attention.
"Keep your voice down," I muttered.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still grinning.
"Okay, okay. So, tell me about this party."
I sighed, shifting my weight.
"It's an exclusive gathering. Only the prominent members of Fernando's inner circle get an invite. If I can get in, I'll be one step closer to him."
Ashley's expression grew serious.
"And Marlo's tag gets you in?"
I nodded.
"Yeah. I managed to take it before Fernando showed up."
Her eyebrows lifted.
"You managed to take it? So, you weren't sure you'd get it?"
I clenched my jaw.
"It was risky."
Ashley exhaled.
"Jesus, Michael. You have to be careful."
"I am careful."
She gave me a look.
"Are you? Or is your hatred for Fernando clouding your judgment?" she asked.
That made me pause.
Ashley was the only person in the FBI who knew about my past-about what Fernando's Mafia crime family did to my sister. She was the only one I trusted with that information, and we both knew that if the Bureau ever found out, I would be taken off this case before I could blink.
I couldn't let that happen.
"I'm not losing focus," I said.
Ashley studied me for a long moment, then nodded.
"Alright. But promise me something."
I lifted a brow.
"What?"
"Don't let him see what he does to you." Her voice was softer now, filled with quiet concern. "You want to take him down? Good. Do it. But don't let him see your hate. Don't let him know he gets to you."
I swallowed hard.
"I won't."
Ashley held out her pinky.
I rolled my eyes.
"Are we twelve?"
She wiggled it like a ten year old child.
"Humor me."
Sighing, I brought my pinky to hers.
"Fine. I promise."
A satisfied smirk curled her lips.
"Good. Now, let's get out of here before you kill someone over a loaf of bread."
I snorted.
"Shut up."
She laughed, and just for a moment, some of the weight in my chest lifted.
Ashley and I walked out of the supermarket, the bags of groceries weighing down our arms.
The night air was calm, cool, a welcome relief from the heat inside.
"I'll see you later," she said as we reached her car.
I nodded.
"Yeah. Be careful" I said as I watched her begin to open the door of her car and placed the groceries inside before heading to the driver seat.
She smirked.
"Always" she replied and I could tell she was okay.
I didn't feel fine if I wasn't sure was was completely safe.
Working in the FBI meant we were prone to a lot of dangers and Ashley was the only person in my life I cared about to ensure her safety.
I watched her drive off before making my way to my own car.
My mind was still racing, replaying every second of my encounter with Fernando.
Next time, I wouldn't let him get the upper hand.
I reached into my pocket for my keys, gripping them tightly as I approached my car.
Then-
Darkness.
A big black bag was brought over my head, and before I could react, strong hands grabbed me.
I struggled to be free.
"What the-"
A sharp blow to my stomach knocked the wind out of me.
Pain exploded in my ribs as I was forced forward, my knees falling against the pavement.
I struggled, adrenaline surging through my veins, but they were too strong.
The world tilted.
My body felt heavy.
The last thing I thought before unconsciousness swallowed me whole was the name that fueled my rage.
Fernando.
And my hatred for him burned hotter than ever.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?
9.6
When a global anomaly awakens dormant powers within them, a neuroscientist, a physicist, and an artist discover they are connected by a force that defies time itself. Mert sees the memories of strangers. Elena witnesses the fabric of reality crack. Kai paints symbols from a past he never knew. Thrown together by fate, they are not alone. Across the globe, others are awakening too-gifted with extraordinary abilities. But they are not the only ones. A powerful cabal-a ruthless financier, a tech mogul, and a charismatic influencer-sees the anomaly not as a warning, but as a weapon. Their ambition shatters the timeline, scattering the group across history: from the smog-choked streets of Victorian London to a transhumanist future, and into a terrifying parallel present. Broken into three teams, the group must hunt their enemies through time itself. To survive, they must master their new powers and forge bonds of love and loyalty strong enough to bend the laws of physics. Their final battle will not be fought in any single era, but at the crossroads of all realities, where the key to existence-the very heart of time-is at stake.
9.2
Chelsi was down to her last fourteen dollars. After a humiliating job rejection for being "too low-class," the threat of eviction forced her to try live-streaming. Terrified of her exhausted, tear-stained face, she cranked the AR beauty filter to the max, morphing into a bizarre plastic alien.
She was immediately dragged into a forced streaming battle with Kamron, the platform's most arrogant top streamer. Seeing her distorted filter, Kamron sneered, unleashing fifty thousand fans to flood her chat with toxic insults.
Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss.
"You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera."
Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her.
But the insults never came. The high-definition camera revealed a breathtakingly delicate, flawless face that no algorithm could ever replicate. The chat went dead silent, Kamron was so stunned he dropped a ten-thousand-dollar virtual yacht, and a silent war between two mysterious billionaires was about to begin.