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ผู้เขียน: Evve
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2026-01-11 04:09:51

"I saw you."

The words leave my mouth in a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

Drakon freezes. His hand tightens on the back of my neck. His thumb stops moving against my jaw.

"Say it again," he commands. His voice is a low growl that vibrates against my chest.

I swallow hard. My pulse hammers in my throat, a frantic bird trapping itself against my skin. I look up into his black eyes.

"I saw you," I say, louder this time. "At the wedding. You looked like you wanted to kill him."

"Not him." His grip tightens, pulling my face closer until our noses brush. "I wanted to kill everyone who stood between me and you."

He doesn't wait for a response.

He snaps.

His mouth crashes onto mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s a collision. A claiming.

I gasp, and he uses the opening to sweep his tongue into my mouth. He tastes of whiskey and raw aggression.

My hands fly up, gripping his biceps to keep from falling. His muscles are rock hard under my fingers.

He groans, a deep, guttural so
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  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   20

    Drakon finds me on the roof of the clubhouse an hour later.The sun is setting, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. I’m leaning against the parapet, staring at the razor wire topping the compound walls. My hands are still cold, even though the evening air is warm.I hear his boots on the gravel. I don't turn around."You shouldn't be up here alone," he says. His voice is rough, tired."I'm not alone," I say, pointing to the guard tower where a prospect is watching us with a rifle. "And I needed air. The basement... it smelled like copper."Drakon stands beside me. He’s showered. The blood is gone from his knuckles, replaced by fresh tape. He smells of soap and tobacco."You weren't supposed to see that," he says." But I did." I turn to face him. "You broke his fingers like they were twigs, Drakon. You didn't even blink.""He had information.""Is that the excuse? For torture?"Drakon’s jaw tightens. He looks out over the city lights flickering to life in the distance."

  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   19

    The door to the VP suite clicks shut. Then the lock turns. Heavy. Final.I stand in the center of the room, my duffel bag dropping from my shoulder to the floor with a thud.It’s nicer than I expected. A king-sized bed with black sheets. A leather armchair in the corner. A small kitchenette. It smells like him—sandalwood and gun oil.But then I look at the windows.Steel bars grid the view of the compound courtyard below."It's a cage," I whisper."It's a fortress."Drakon walks past me, unbuckling his belt. He tosses his cut onto the chair. He looks exhausted, the adrenaline from the shower finally fading into a jagged weariness."I can't leave, can I?" I ask. "I can't go to the store. I can't drive my car.""No." He sits on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing his boots. "You step outside those gates, you're dead. Kyros has eyes everywhere.""So I just sit here? Waiting for you to come back covered in blood?"He looks up. His eyes are flat. "Yes. That's the job, Thalia. That's th

  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   18

    The ride back to the cabin is a blur of speed and darkness.Drakon drives like a man possessed. He leans the bike so low on the curves that the pegs scrape sparks from the asphalt. The wind tears at my clothes, whipping my hair into a frenzy, but I don't feel the cold.I still feel the kick of the gun in my hand.We skid to a halt in the gravel driveway. The silence of the woods rushes in to fill the void left by the engine, but it’s not peaceful. It’s heavy. Waiting.Drakon is off the bike before the kickstand is fully down. He grabs my hand, hauling me toward the front door. His grip is tight, painful. He’s vibrating with adrenaline—a live wire looking for a ground.He unlocks the door with jerky movements. Click. Click. Thud.He shoves me inside and slams the door, throwing the deadbolt.He turns to me.In the harsh light of the entryway, we look like monsters. My shirt is smeared with soot. There is dried blood—the Reaper’s blood—splattered across my cheek and woven into my hair.

  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   17

    The steel door slams against the concrete wall.A Reaper fills the doorway. He’s wearing a skull mask, holding a sawed-off shotgun.BOOM.Markos doesn't hesitate. He pulls the trigger.The sound in the small concrete room is deafening. It hits me like a physical punch to the chest. My ears ring instantly.The Reaper flies backward as if yanked by an invisible cable. His chest is a ruin of red and black. He hits the floor in the hallway and doesn't move."Reloading!" Markos screams, pumping the action of his shotgun. A spent shell clatters to the floor.But he’s not fast enough.A second shadow dives through the smoke.He hits Markos low, tackling him into the weapon rack. The shotgun skitters across the concrete, out of reach.They crash to the floor, a tangle of limbs and leather."Get off me!" Markos roars, throwing a heavy right hook.The Reaper grunts but holds on. He’s smaller than Markos, but faster. He rolls, pinning Markos’s arm with his knee.I see the glint of steel.A knife

  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   16

    "Down!"Markos doesn't ask. He tackles me.His shoulder hits my midsection like a battering ram. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp whoosh. We hit the floorboards hard, his heavy frame shielding mine just as the window explodes.CRASH.Glass showers the room.Then comes the heat.A Molotov cocktail smashes against the back bar. The bottle shatters, and the gasoline ignites instantly.FWOOM.A wall of orange fire roars to life, climbing the liquor shelves. Bottles burst in the heat—vodka, whiskey, gin—feeding the inferno. The smell is instantaneous and choking. Burning alcohol. Melting plastic. Fear."Move!" Markos screams in my ear. He hauls me up by my jacket.I scramble to my feet, coughing. The smoke is already thick, a black oily cloud rolling across the ceiling.Another crash. Another bottle flying through the darkness. It smashes near the pool table, setting the felt ablaze."They're burning us out!" a prospect yells.Gunfire erupts outside. Pop-pop-pop. Automatic weapons.Bulle

  • Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend   15

    Drakon releases Zara’s wrist with a shove that sends her stumbling back into the crowd."Get out of my sight," he growls. "Before I forget you're a brother's daughter."Zara rubs her wrist, her face blotchy with rage and humiliation. She opens her mouth to speak, to spit another insult, but she looks at Drakon’s eyes and thinks better of it. She spins on her heel and disappears into the mass of leather and denim.The crowd parts for us. The silence is still heavy, but the tension has shifted. It’s no longer hostile. It’s wary. Respectful.Drakon doesn't let go of me. He guides me to the bar, his hand heavy on the nape of my neck."Whiskey," he barks at the prospect behind the counter. "Bottle."The kid scrambles to obey.Drakon sits on a heavy wooden stool. He doesn't pull up a second one for me. He spreads his legs, grabs my hips, and pulls me down."Sit."I hesitate for a fraction of a second. Fifty pairs of eyes are watching."Thalia," he warns, his voice a low rumble against my ch

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