OWNED BY THE DON: 100 Filthy Debts

Chapter 3b: The Debt Is Paid

Ava's POV

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"And w-what would I be doing when—"

"Whatever I want you to."

Whatever he wanted me to? I only did pole dancing at work, nothing more. What would he demand of me? And why me? Did Tony know they would kill someone tonight? Was that why he sent me to that VIP room so I could be the sacrificial lamb or piece of appeasement?

Nah, that couldn't be it.

Tony was a sick and greedy motherfucker. He wouldn't easily part away with someone who could fetch him more money, and I still had lots of debt to pay him.

HIS stare was sharp, and brood no arguments. But I knew I needed to fight for my freedom, since he wasn't saying exactly what he wanted. I hadn't been living the most responsible kind of life ever since I moved out of my mom's place but at least my job put food on my table and sexy clothes on my back.

Also, my dad would of no doubt be turning in his grave if he knew that my life had only gotten messier with each year that passed since his death. I heaved a deep sigh, feeling very uneasy as my gut warned me that I wasn't fighting my way through healthy survival as much as I should.

“Uhm, why don’t I just… I could just—I could just get another job and then within a year, I’ll pay you back. I can take extra shifts or—”

My voice sounded thin even to my own ears, like it didn’t belong in this space. Like it didn’t belong anywhere near him.

The words tumbled out anyway, clumsy, desperate, trying to take shape into something reasonable. Something he could accept. Because there had to be a version of this where I walked out. Where this ended like a bad night instead of the beginning of something worse.

“You’re in no position to negotiate.”

He said it without cruelty. No raised voice or sharp edge, just a calm and precise statement. And somehow that was worse than if he had snapped at me.

Because cruelty could be fought. Anger could be worked around. This? This felt like fact. Like gravity.

“You saw something tonight that people have died for seeing.” His gaze didn’t waver from mine, not even for a second. “I paid your debts tonight, which is more mercy than I extend to most people who find themselves in your position.”

My throat tightened.

Mercy.

That wasn’t what this felt like.

He pushed off the counter then, the movement unhurried, deliberate—like he had all the time in the world, like there was no version of this conversation where he didn’t end exactly where he intended to. He walked toward me slowly, each step measured, controlled, and I hated that my body reacted before my mind did.

I didn’t step back.

I refused to.

Even when he stopped close enough that I could feel the shift of air around him, close enough that keeping my eyes on his face instead of anywhere else took effort.

“What you’re going to do, Ava,” he continued, voice still even, “is exactly what I tell you. For as long as I decide.”

My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I kept my face still anyway.

“And if I say no?”

The question came out quieter this time, but steadier. It was all I had left—this thin, fragile line of defiance.

Something shifted in his expression.

Not anger.

Something quieter than that. Colder. More certain.

“Then I make a phone call,” he said, “and Tony’s friends—the ones who aren’t mine—collect your debt the old-fashioned way.”

Each word landed carefully. Intentionally.

“And you lose your enrollment. And you go back to that apartment in Williamsburg alone.” A brief pause. Not hesitation—calculation. “And I’ll be sure to put my men on your tail so you’ll always have to look over your shoulder… and live in anxiety for a long, long time.”

My stomach dropped.

“Also,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “I’ll make sure you pay me double of what I settled Tony.”

His eyes moved over my face then, slow, assessing.

“I’ve read your file, little dove. You don’t have anyone who can help you. Not really.”

That—

That was the worst thing he’d said.

Because it was true.

It cut through everything else, clean and precise, leaving nothing to defend. No argument. No denial. Just the ugly, exposed reality of it.

I had no one.

Not my father, who had been absent long enough to become a ghost. Not my mother, whose resentment had grown sharp and bitter, twisted by things that were never my fault. Not anyone who could pull me out of this.

This was my life.

And I had walked straight into the worst part of it.

I stared at him, all twenty-one years of my life stacking up behind my eyes—every shift, every grade, every sacrifice, every bad decision that had led me here. Ten thousand dollars borrowed from the wrong man. One wrong place at the wrong time.

And now this. This place. This man. This impossible corner.

It already felt like a beautiful cage. But still a cage.

I lifted my chin.

“Your terms,” I said. The words felt heavy, but once they were out, there was no taking them back. I was so tired—tired of fighting things that didn’t move, tired of trying to outrun consequences that always caught up. “What exactly are your terms?”

He looked at me for a long moment. Like, really looked.

And then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted in his gaze, something sharp and quiet that might have been approval. Or hunger. Or maybe both.

“You’ll find out,” he said.

Of course I would. Was he attracted to him? The thought of whatever he might have in mind was beginning to drive me insane.

“But first—”

He reached into a drawer, the motion smooth, familiar, like this was nothing. Like I was nothing out of the ordinary.

He set something on the counter between us.

Thin. Gold. A delicate chain with a small pendant—the letter D in clean, modern type.

I stared at it. Then my face slowly moved toward him.

“It’s a necklace,” I said flatly. My voice had lost whatever edge it had before. “Why would you give me a necklace?”

“It’s a reminder.” His eyes held mine, steady, unblinking. His gaze dragged over me once, slow, deliberate, before he gave a slight nod, as if he was trying to mentally commend himself for the plans he'd made. “Put it on.”

For a second, I didn’t move. Then my hands lifted anyway.

They were almost steady as I picked it up, the gold cool against my fingers, lighter than it should have been for something that suddenly felt so heavy.

I clasped it around my neck, willing my fingers not to tremble. I didn't want to show him how weak I currently felt. This handsome murderer didn't deserve that view.

The click sounded louder than it should have. And it felt as if something had just been finalized.

Done and dusted.

And as the chain settled against my skin, one thought rose, clear and unavoidable.

I think I have just been claimed.