All Chapters of OATHBOUND: Married To The Don Of The North: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

{INGRID'S POV}**“Put your hands above your head,” he tells me.I do, looking into his eyes as I obey.My mind turns to the first time I saw him when I awoke in here. I can practically feel his hands on me as he holds me down, the intense powerlessness I felt at their touch.I breathe deeply, calming the emotions that race through me at the thought.I feel his hands on my wrists, pushing them together. The tie slides around them, the same fabric as before caressing my sensitive skin. I feel as it begins to tighten and look up to watch.He binds my wrists tightly, securing them with practiced hands.I give them a tug, experimenting with the length. The constraint leaves me feeling utterly powerless, and I wonder at the spark that spreads through me at the thought of it.I turn to find his eyes. They pierce me in question.I answer with my own, my chest heaving in anticipation. I

{GIOVANNI’S POV}**So, I left her.It wasn’t like I didn’t have a choice. I could’ve stayed back with her. Hell, a part of me wanted to. But I just... I just walked away.She knew my name, but I didn’t bother learning hers. Why would I? She was just a kid. Well, legal, barely 18, so no problem there, right? That’s how it goes. First time, one time. No strings, no complications.She wasn’t special. To me, she was just another warm body in a long, forgettable list of bitches. Names? Faces? They didn’t matter when you lived a shitty life as mine. So, in summary, thanks to my shitty life, I took what I wanted. When I wanted. And moved on.But damn. There was something about her.Not love or anything stupid like that; let’s not get carried away. But there was this way she looked at me, like she saw past the bullshit. Like she could strip me down to nothing with just her eyes.It pissed me of

{EDMONDO'S POV} * * The bastard’s trying to rile me up. And it’s working. My hand itches to reach for my knife. But I hold back. Not yet. Not here. He surely didn't come here to hug but to attack. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” I say, my voice is low and cutting. “But balls won’t save you when you’re six feet under.” “Ah, but I’ve no intention of being buried tonight,” he replies, his smile fading as his eyes harden. “I came here to talk.” Talk? “Talk?” I spit the word out like it tastes bad. “The Irish don’t talk. You threaten, you scheme, and you stab people in the back. So, cut the bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.” Donnelly shrugs. His movements are quite slow. Slow like a poison but delib

{GIOVANNI'S POV}**The courtyard is alive, alive with noise. There's steel ringing on steel, boots pounding against dirt, grunts and curses cutting through the cold morning air. This… this is Edmondo’s pet project. ‘The Girls Guard.’He swears by it, calls it the future. Says women are more dangerous than men when they’ve got something to prove. He’s not wrong. I’ve seen what they can do. And here they are, Edmondo’s handpicked female assassins in training, twisting chaos into precision. It’s almost impressive. Almost.I lean against the stone pillar, arms crossed, watching as they work through their drills. Most of them move like they’ve been doing this all their whole lives. They are calculated. Efficient. Deadly. But one of them catches my eye.She’s a disaster.Clumsy footwork. Weak grip. She fumbles with her blade like it’s a goddamn kitchen utensil.

{CARA’S POV}**The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. My chest tightens as the shadow steps forward, slow and deliberate.I glance back at Edmondo who's still hunched in the corner. His pipe smolders between his fingers. His eyes are locked on the figure, his expression is unreadable. But there’s something dark simmering beneath the surface.I turn back to the shadow, my pulse hammering in my ears.“Who…” My voice cracks and suddenly I hate how small I sound. I straighten, forcing strength into my words. “Who the hell are you?”The figure steps into the dim light and my stomach drops. It’s a man, tall and broad-shouldered. His face is partially obscured by the brim of a hat. He’s dressed like he just walked out of a funeral; black suit, black gloves, black everything.“Evening,” he says, his voice calm. It's almost casual. But there’s an edge to it; a quiet menace that makes my skin crawl.“What the fuck is this?” Edmondo growls, pushing himself off the wall. He stumbl