In Bed With My Best Friend's Son Part 17

The house was a tomb when they returned, the silence a heavy, suffocating blanket that felt thicker after the noise of the city. Lucas didn’t speak as he led her inside, his grip on her arm a firm, unyielding shackle. He didn’t take her to the bedroom. He took her to the living room, pushing her down onto the same couch where he had first taken her, where this entire nightmare had truly begun.

He stood over her, a silhouette against the moonlight, his face a mask of cold, triumphant calculation. He looked down at her, not with lust, but with the detached appraisal of a man admiring a perfectly crafted weapon.

“Phase one is complete,” he said, his voice a low, calm rumble that was more terrifying than any shout. “I have the money. I have you. And now, for the final, beautiful piece of the puzzle.” He began to pace, a caged animal waiting to be unleashed. “My mother. Dear, sweet, broken Carmen. She thinks you’re a victim. She thinks she’s the hero. It’s adorable, really.”

He stopped in