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When It All Comes Out.
Last Updated:
2026-01-02 18:32:45
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How To Love A Murderer. The Ghost In The Glass House.
Chapter Seventy Nine: The Ghost In The Glass HouseONE YEAR LATER.Three hundred and sixty-five days.That’s how long the silence had lasted. Ian lay perfectly still in the hospital bed Zhedya had installed in the master suite, turned into a sterile, high-tech sanctuary. He was so pale he seemed carved from moonlight, his skin almost the same shade as the platinum hair Zhedya meticulously maintained, dyeing the roots every few weeks. He was a beautiful, broken statue. A sleeping angel who had forgotten how to wake up.The little boy he had saved, Leo, was fine. A few scratches, a story about a hero for show-and-tell. He was back to running and laughing.Ian had taken the full force of the world for him, and the world had left him here, trapped in a quiet nowhere.The only sounds in the room were the steady, mocking beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor and the soft, desperate rustle of pages as Zhedya turned them.Zhedya was a ghost haunting his own life. He was thinner, shadows liv
How To Love A Murderer. The Colour Of Ashes.
Chapter Seventy Eight: The Colour of Ashes The past few weeks had bled into one long, grey fog. Ian’s depression wasn’t just sadness anymore; it was a heavy, silent blanket that smothered everything. He was a ghost in the glass house, sleeping through the days, staring at the walls, barely touching the food Zhedya brought him. “Ian, love,” Zhedya would say, his voice soft and pleading. He’d hold a spoonful of soup. “Just a little. For me.” Ian would turn his head away, slow as a rusted hinge. He would look at the food like it was something foreign, then just close his eyes. It was a quiet, final kind of no that was louder than any scream. The fights were gone. The sharp words, the glares, the little acts of rebellion…all of it. The silence that replaced them was worse. It was hollow and it scared Zhedya down to his bones. The nightmares were the worst part. Ian would jerk awake in the dead of night, gasping, his skin slick with cold sweat. Sometimes he would cry o
How To Love A Murderer. The Only Thing That Scares Him.
Chapter Seventy Seven: The Only Thing That Scares HimJust a little more…Ian leaned forward, his fingers starting to slip on the cold glass. The wind screamed in his ears, but underneath it was a quiet, peaceful whisper. The roar of the waves on the rocks far below sounded like an ending. A clean, final end. He let his body go loose, ready to meet it.“IAN!”The scream tore through the wind, raw and desperate. It was Zhedya’s voice, but it was a sound Ian had never heard from him before…not a command, not a purr, but pure, unfiltered panic.A split-second before his balance tipped into nothing, iron-strong arms wrapped around his chest and yanked him back so violently the air was knocked from his lungs.He was hauled back from the edge, crushed against a solid chest. They stumbled and landed hard on the cold balcony floor in a tangled heap.“No. No, no, no,” Zhedya chanted into his ear, his voice cracking. The arms around Ian weren’t just holding him; they were shaking. “What w
How To Love A Murderer. If It Was Kindness.
Chapter Seventy Six: If It Was KindnessClink. Clink.The sound of Ian’s fork pushing peas around his plate was the loudest noise in the room. He wasn’t eating, he was just moving food from one side to the other, making a sad little mess.“Hurry and eat, baby,” Zhedya said, his voice a soft, sticky-sweet command. He scooped another serving of mashed potatoes onto Ian’s already full plate. “I wouldn’t have you waste away in front of me.”Ian forced a single, cold piece of carrot into his mouth. He chewed slowly, like it was made of cardboard, his eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond Zhedya’s shoulder. It was his only rebellion left…this heavy, silent no.Zhedya watched him for a long minute. Then, his own fork hit the china plate with a sharp, startling CLANK!Ian flinched, his gaze snapping back to the present.“I did what you wanted,” Zhedya said, his voice tight. He wasn’t yelling, but the hurt in it was somehow worse. “I spared her. Is this my thanks? This… this miserable s
How To Love A Murderer. Betrayal and Bargain.
Chapter Seventy Five: Betrayal and Bargain Bodies tangled in the rumpled sheets, John flipped Elijah onto his back with a hungry grin, pinning his wrists above his head. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over their skin, but the heat between them was all their own…raw, urgent, chasing away the shadows of last night's worries. "John..." Elijah breathed, voice shaky, eyes wide but dark with want. His heart hammered, a mix of nerves and that pull he couldn't ignore, even after everything. John's body pressed down, hard and heavy, cock already stiff against Elijah's thigh. "Shh, just feel it," John whispered, lips brushing Elijah's ear before trailing hot kisses down his neck. He nipped at the pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, claiming. Elijah's hips bucked up involuntary, grinding against him, friction sparking fire low in his belly. John's free hand roamed, fingers teasing over Elijah's chest, pinching a nipple until it peb
How To Love A Murderer. A Familiar Voice.
Chapter Seventy Four: A Familiar Voice “I have some business in the city. The hospital needs its CEO to show his face and I’ll be gone a few days.”Zhedya placed his sketchbook and pencil on the bedside table. Another page filled with careful drawings of Ian asleep, Ian staring out the window, Ian’s profile. It was a creepy ritual, and Ian hated it.Ian didn’t even turn his head. He kept staring at the same patch of ocean he’d been staring at for what felt like years. “Whatever. I hate you are here, and I hate seeing you anyway. Don’t hurry back. Frankly, I hope your plane crashes.”Zhedya just chuckled, a soft, infuriating sound. “So mean to me, my love. I’ll miss you.” The bed dipped as he sat on the edge. “Since you’ve gotten stronger, I thought… I could sleep in here with you tonight. I could read to you. Something nice.”Ian finally looked at him. The casual possessiveness in Zhedya’s voice, the way he was already reaching for a book on the nightstand, lit a fuse inside him.
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