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Chapter 22

last update publish date: 2026-03-20 01:47:18

"I'm glad you think so," he says, "but I already know I am."

I narrow my eyes and give him a glare. "Someone's cocky."

He raises a brow and tilts his head to the side. "Confident, angel," he says, dragging his hands slightly higher up my thighs. "There's a difference."

Silas's hand gives me a gentle squeeze. "You should be too," he says, tone low and sincere. "You just fail to see how attractive you are. Be confident in yourself."

I give him a small smile and a nod, even though I'm not sure I a
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  • Their Beautiful Madness   Chapter 35

    Silas's shoulders slump. "No," he says quietly. "She'll never be a fucking toy to me."I scratch at the back of my neck, fingers digging into the skin like the irritation might bleed out. There's something coiled in my chest. An emotion I can't name. But it's burning, uncomfortable, and foreign. Guilt? I don't know. But whatever it is, I don't fucking like it and I don't know how to get rid of it.The word sorry will never come out of my mouth. It's not in my vocabulary. But I know I have to say something. Do something. Anything to fix the shift that's cracked between us.I finally ask, "What can I do?"Silas doesn't even look at me. He just starts yanking at the buttons on his shirt, ripping them clean off, letting them scatter across the hardwood floor. Then he kicks off his shoes and slacks in one rough motion and stalks around the bed like I'm not even in the room. He gets into bed beside her, careful but possessive. His arm slides protectively around

  • Their Beautiful Madness   Chapter 34

    AtticusI catch Beatrice just as she collapses dead weight in my arms, soft and limp like a rag doll. Her head lolls against my chest, and for a second, the world just... stills.Her scent fills my nose. Vanilla. Warm and so fucking sweet. My arms tighten around her, feeling just how fragile she really is.Silas storms across the room, shoving me hard enough to make me stumble back a step. He snatches her away from me like I stole something that belongs to him. His jaw's clenched, eyes dark, barely holding it together.I don't fucking like that.I clench my fist, watching him cradle her like she's his whole world. I touched her, felt her nails digging into my shoulders, heard the way she whimpered and moaned; it didn't matter who she belonged to. She was mine in that moment.Kathy was right when she told me about her. She's stunning. I didn't want to believe it, but it was staring me in the face just now. Beatrice is everyth

  • Their Beautiful Madness   Chapter 33

    The next few seconds are a blur. The jars, the plate, the bread, and the knife all go flying, crashing to the floor in a loud clatter. I barely have time to react before he's on me, spinning me around, lifting me effortlessly, and slamming me on the cold marble surface.His mouth is on mine. Hot. Demanding. Unforgiving. It's claiming with nothing but lips and teeth. His hands go to my waist, hard enough to bruise, and they're tugging at my shirt. No, ripping it.The fabric tears down the middle with a rough, jarring sound, exposing me to the cool air, to him. I gasp, crossing my arms, but he catches my wrists and pins them to the counter beside me. His eyes burn into mine. Feral. Hungry. Dark.He drags his hands up my body, palms rough, fingertips grazing every inch of bare skin before settling on my chest. He squeezes hard, and I can't stop the whimper that slips from my lips. Even his touch feels different tonight.He leans in close, his breath hot agai

  • Their Beautiful Madness   Chapter 32

    BeatriceI toss onto my other side, shoving the thick comforter away with a frustrated sigh. The mattress is absurdly soft, cradling every inch of me. But sleep won't come. My body is exhausted, my eyes heavy, but my mind just won't shut the fuck up.The bed is perfect. The room is perfect. So why do I feel so restless?My eyes flutter open, again. The ceiling stares back at me, cloaked in darkness. My hand blindly reaches for my phone on the nightstand, and I squint at the harsh glow as the screen lights up.2:03 AM.I groan and flop onto my back, bringing my phone to my chest. A low rumble echoes from my stomach. "Seriously?" I whisper into the dark.Why am I starving in the middle of the night? My body has decided that sleep can wait until I solve my sudden craving for food. It's always at the most inconvenient time that hunger shows up. It waits until I'm cocooned in comfort.In my oversized nightshirt, bare-legge

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    SilasIt's well past midnight.I'm in my office, glued to my computer, eyes scanning rows of security footage, logs, shipment data. All of it starts to blur together. There's movement on the Apex feed. Faces I don't recognize. People asking questions they shouldn't.There's too much going on and not enough hours in the damn day. Every time I scratch the surface, something new bubbles up. More loose ends that need tying off. My inbox is full of bullshit. Numbers that don't align. People who don't shut the fuck up, threats dressed as polite inquiries.I run a hand through my hair and rub the tired out of my eyes. I reach for the bourbon and take a long sip. Third glass? Fuck if I know. I haven't been keeping count.Beatrice.That beautiful, chaotic little light bulldozed into my life a little over a month ago. Soft where I'm sharp, innocent in ways I'll never be, yet she fits. She distracts me but I'm not complaining about it.

  • Their Beautiful Madness   Chapter 30

    The man on the speaker starts to stammer out something but Silas cuts him off. "I'll call you back later," he says cooly.I force a tight smile onto my face, acting like I didn't just overhear something that definitely wasn't meant for my ears. But the second his eyes meet mine, his whole expression shifts. The cold, ruthless look he was wearing softens. As if my presence melted the edge off his anger. His jaw loosens, the tension in his shoulders ease, and a flicker of warmth bleeds into the ice.I clear my throat and say, "Sorry to interrupt." I hold up the tray like a peace offering. "Just bringing you lunch."He doesn't say anything, just watches me with unreadable eyes. He's trying to see if I heard too much. I move quickly, setting the tray down on the corner of his desk. The moment my hands are free, I pivot and make a beeline for the door. I don't run, but I don't exactly stroll either. I wasn't born yesterday. I know damn well I wasn't supposed to hear

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