Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

ADRIEN’S POV

The hum of the private jet’s engines lowers into a deep, vibrating groan as the aircraft completes its final descent through the grey, wet clouds hanging low over the American coastline.

The tires hit the wet asphalt with a violent shudder, the sudden impact rattling the small tables and seats inside the cabin before the plane slows to a smooth crawl along the tarmac.

My chest feels tight, hollow, and suffocatingly hot despite the cold air blowing through the overhead vents.

The long journey across the Atlantic Ocean has not made me calmer. If anything, the quiet hours trapped inside this flying metal tube have given my brain far too much room to spiral.

The scandal involving the leaked hotel footage, the public humiliation smeared across every major news network, and the alert about Alice’s mysterious disappearance have formed a tangled knot of raw panic and bitter fury right beneath my ribs.

I am done running. I am done sitting quietly like a well-behaved dog, waiting for other people to decide what happens to my life, my name, and my reputation.

Before the flight crew can even reach the latch to open the main cabin door, I unbuckle my belt and stand up.

Orion doesn’t move immediately.

He sits back in his armchair, a thin crystal glass resting loosely in his fingers, his sharp, soulless eyes tracking my movement with slow, composed ease.

He tilts his head slightly, watching me pull my jacket straight with hands that I force, through sheer willpower, not to tremble.

”Where do you think you are going, Adrien?” Orion asks softly. His voice is calm and unbothered, as if we are stepping off a casual weekend excursion rather than landing in the middle of what could be called a war zone.

I turn around to face him directly, keeping my feet shoulder-width apart so I don’t sway.

”I am not going to your estate to sit in a room and wait,” I say, keeping my tone short and sharp. ”I want full access to your intelligence network. I want to find Louise myself.”

Orion pauses.

He sets his glass down on the small mahogany fold-out table beside him quietly. He leans back against his seat, a faint, barely perceptible curve touching the very corners of his mouth.

He has spent months watching me fight him. He has watched me run, hide, panic, and resist every invisible chain he tried to wrap around me.

Seeing me voluntarily step forward, look him dead in the eye, and ask to use his own private network to hunt down a person my own catches him completely off guard.

For a brief, flickering second, a flicker of genuine amusement glints in his eyes.

”My intelligence network,” Orion repeats, his voice dropping into a low, smooth murmur as if he is tasting the words on his tongue. ”You are standing in my jet, looking down at me, and asking for my private servers and my surveillance databases?”

”I am not asking you to do it for me,” I say, taking a step forward until I am standing right at the edge of his table. ”I am telling you I want the information. I want to trace her myself.”

Orion stands up.

The transition is effortlessly silent. He closes the small gap between us until he towers over me, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the oval windows behind him.

His presence is suffocating, but I refuse to take a single step backward. I lock my jaw and hold his stare.

”Information is not a plaything, Adrien,” Orion says quietly, his tone dropping into that calm, flat tone he uses when the games end. ”You are asking to step into a world where data cuts deeper than a rusty blade. Once you open my network, you will not just see a girl hiding from me.”

”You will see debts. You will see blood. You will see the names and faces of people that I do not let walk away alive.”

”I don’t care about your bloody secrets,” I snap back, my chest heaving as I glare up at him. ”She leaked that video! She spent her entire life kicking me while I was down, and the moment she thought she could secure her place with your family, she dragged my name through the dirt to make herself look important!”

”I am not going to sit around while you and your men handle her out of sight. I need to look her in the eye and make her face what she did.”

Orion’s eyes narrow slightly. He studies the defensive way I stand, the flushed heat rising along my neck, and the raw fury burning behind my eyes.

”And after she faces you?” Orion asks, his voice chillingly soft. ”What then, Adrien? Do you want her broken? Do you want her locked in a room until she forgets her own name?”

”I want answers,” I say, my breath hitching slightly in my throat. ”I want her to answer for what she did, and I want to know what she knows about her mother’s disappearance. But I am not going to let you execute her before I get them.”

Orion’s face remains unreadable, but I can feel the shift in the air between us. He doesn’t think like a human being with memories or regrets. He thinks in terms of threats, leverage, and brutal consequences.

To Orion, Louise Dubois is not my half-sister. She is not a broken girl who grew up under Alice’s cruel conditioning. She is a liability— a loose, messy thread that needs to be burned away before it catches fire and touches him.

Or worse, touches me.

”You are still thinking like a victim trying to resolve a childhood grudge,” Orion says softly. He lifts one hand, his long fingers coming up to rest lightly against the top of my shoulder.

His thumb presses firmly into the muscle near my collarbone, a silent, possessive weight. ”I think like a man removing a problem.”

”She is my problem,” I say, though the word tastes like ash in my mouth. ”I don’t care what you think about her. Agree to it, Orion. Give me the files and let me lead the search.”

Orion stares down at me for a long moment. He looks at my wide eyes, at the stubborn defiance making my spine rigid, and instead of anger, a soft satisfied look spreads across his face.

He knows me better than I like to admit.

He knows that despite my anger, despite the rage burning through my veins, I refuse to cross that final line. I will not personally decide that someone must die. I am not a killer, and I cannot stomach becoming one.

”Very well,” Orion whispers, his thumb sliding up to brush lightly against the side of my neck before his hand drops back to his side. ”You can lead the search. You can hunt your sister.”

He turns and steps toward the front cabin exit just as the mechanical seals hiss and the main door swings outward, letting the cold, damp American air rush into the warm plane.

”My people remain involved, Adrien,” Orion adds over his shoulder, his voice carrying that final, unyielding weight that permits no argument. ”You will use my resources, but my men step everywhere you step. If she slips away from you, it falls on both of us.”