Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

LEON’S POV

The room is suffocatingly dark. The curtains are heavy and pulled so tight that not even a single sliver of the afternoon sun manages to cut through the gloom.

It’s depressing.

Leon lies flat on his back on a narrow, creaking mattress, staring blindly up at the dark ceiling. The air smells like stale dust, damp concrete, and the lingering sting of his own cold sweat.

He is being hidden in this nameless safehouse, tucked away in a rotting district at the edge of the city. The men who dropped him off here refused to speak a single word.

They would not say who paid them, who ordered this, or who is pulling the strings from the shadows. They just pushed him inside, locked the heavy iron door from the outside, and left him with nothing but a bare mattress.

He carried out his part of the deal. He did what he was told. But the victory brings no relief, only a heavy, crushing terror that sits on his chest like a slab of concrete.

It is only a matter of time before Orion finds him. No one can tell him otherwise.

Leon turns his head slowly, pressing his cheek against the rough, scratchy fabric of the pillow. His heart hammers a frantic, uneven beat against his ribs.

He is scared out of his mind. Every small creak of the floorboards outside the door makes his muscles lock up. Every distant sound of a car engine idling on the street below sends a violent jolt of panic straight through his veins.

He knows Orion is looking for him right now. He knows Niko is looking for him too. The thought of those two men makes Leon’s mouth go bone-dry.

He can practically see them in his mind, standing in some large, quiet office, carefully setting the trap to hunt him down.

He knows they are both wondering what exactly possessed him to do something so drastic, so reckless, when he knows that he does not have the power, the money, or the muscle to back it up.

Leon closes his eyes, a bitter, breathless laugh catching in his throat. He knows why they are hunting him. He knows that this time, he is actually going to die.

There will be no negotiations, no second chances, and no mercy. Once Orion’s hands close around his neck, it will be over.

Yet he feels like he had no choice. No one in their cursed circle ever really has a choice. You jump when you are pushed, and you run when the fire gets too close.

It was not like he wanted Adrien dead. He does not even know Adrien that well.

The chaotic events of that day at the church replay in his head like a twisted movie strip, looping over and over in the dark.

Leon remembers every single detail with sickening clarity.

He remembers the cold sweat dripping down his neck as he spoke to Adrien in the quiet, echoing stone hallways of the church.

He remembers the angry, annoyed questions Adrien kept throwing at him, his dark eyes narrowed with irritation.

Leon had led Adrien around, delaying him, twisting his words yet speaking the truth, and keeping him off balance just long enough before the person with the syringe managed to step out from the shadows and get to Adrien, plunging the injection straight into his neck.

Leon’s stomach turns over. He covers his eyes with his forearm, trying to shut out the memory, but his mind drifts further back into the past, digging up old, haunting memories of Adrien.

He remembers the very first time he met Adrien when they were younger. It was back when Adrien was in his second year of school and Leon was still just a quiet first-year. Leon remembers being inside Adrien’s room, in that small cabin when they were all away at the resort.

That was the first time their paths had ever crossed, a fleeting moment buried under years of violence and chaos.

And then he remembers the next time he met him.

It was when Adrien was running blindly toward Orion’s room, desperate to tell Orion about the vial, desperate to reveal everything and lay all his cards on the table.

Leon had cornered him right then and there in the corridor.

Leon sits up slowly in the dark room, dragging his calloused hands down his pale face. A deep, unsettling confusion knots in his gut whenever he thinks about Adrien now.

Listening to the way Adrien speaks, listening to how Adrien views the past, it sounds like Adrien thinks Leon is some kind of evil manipulator. It sounds like Adrien believes Leon dragged him into a trap on purpose, like Leon was the mastermind behind his ruin.

It makes no sense to Leon. It leaves him feeling deeply unnerved. Does Adrien really not remember what actually happened? Or did his fear that day, his sheer panic, rewrite his memories entirely?

Does Adrien not remember when Leon cornered him on his way to Orion’s room? Does he not remember what happened right before he saw his dead friend, Timothy?

When Leon cornered him and asked him what he was going to do, Adrien had responded with a cold, desperate firmness. Adrien told him that he was going to kill Orion, that he was already holding the vial, and that he knew what was at stake now.

At that time, Leon remembers how terrified he was for him. He remembers begging Adrien. He pleaded with Adrien that when he kills Orion, he should run as far away as he could. That was what Leon told him. He told him to run, to run as fast as he could, to save his own life.

And in the case where even that vial couldn’t kill the lunatic...

So imagine Leon’s surprise and sheer shock when Adrien came running out of the room moments later. Leon was right there in the hallway, calling out to him to forget everything and run, screaming at him to run away just like he had advised him to do.

And then, in the very next moment, Leon hears Orion’s voice coming from inside the room.

It was clear and calm, echoing down the empty corridor without a trace of pain or weakness. Orion was shouting that his duckling should not go too far because he just needed to wash up and come to meet him.

Leon remembers freezing in his tracks, his mind completely blanking out. What did Orion mean by wash up? Did Adrien not kill him? Did Adrien not use the vial? How was Orion still breathing, talking so calmly as if nothing had happened inside that room?

The memory makes Leon shudder in the dark. The way Adrien had acted, the way his story shifted over time, the way Adrien seemed so victimized yet carried such strange, terrifying decisions, it makes Leon’s skin crawl.

The confusion leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Adrien is an unsettling person, unpredictable and wrapped in layers of panic that warp reality until no one knows what is real anymore.

Leon lays his head back down on the creaking bed in the dark room where he is hiding. He wonders how his life has come to this miserable point. He does not even know what he wants anymore. He has no future, no plan, and no way out of this nightmare.

In the quiet darkness, a uselessly desperate craving washes over him. What he wishes for right now, what he knows would help him feel better, is Niko. He wants Niko holding his head down and pounding into him so deep that he cannot breathe or think.

He wants that brutal weight to crush every single thought in his mind. He does not want to think anymore. He does not want to breathe anymore. He does not even know where his life is going.

It is only a matter of time anyway. With Niko and Orion’s extensive network, it is only a matter of time before they find him and drag him out of this dark hole.

A sudden, sharp vibration breaks the heavy silence.

Leon flinches violently, his entire body going rigid on the mattress.

The cheap burner phone resting on the dusty floorboards beside the bed lights up, buzzing loudly against the wood. The bright screen glows in the pitch-black room, throwing harsh blue light across his face.

Leon stares at it blankly, his heart leaping into his throat.

The screen displays a familiar contact name. It is Louise. She is calling again.

Of course she is.

He lets it ring for a while, choosing not to pick it up. He does not want to speak to her. He does not want to hear her voice or her frantic excuses.

Louise knew. She always knew.

The call cuts off abruptly, dropping the room back into a heavy silence.

Then, the phone vibrates again almost immediately.

Leon looks down at the glowing screen. It is a new call, but it is not a number that he recognizes. Out of the three saved numbers on the burner phone, this one is completely foreign.

Warily, Leon reaches down and picks up the plastic phone. Not even Orion would have the number to this phone at this point. It was supposed to be completely clean, bought off the street and untraceable.

He slides the button to accept the call and presses the phone to his ear, remaining completely silent.

”Hello, Leon,” a smooth voice speaks through the small speaker.

The tone is calm, polished, and distinctly Asian, cutting through the static line with absurd clarity.

”My name is Yaya,” the man says softly. ”And I believe that we need to talk.”