All Chapters of New Brother : Chapter 71 - Chapter 77

 Hailey  I looked at Carter instead of glancing back—because I knew if I did, I'd have to meet her eyes. And Damien's. His stare had already begun boring holes into my skin, a slow burn I felt even with my back turned. Carter leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Don't worry, little one. I got this." God, please let me remember all of this. Maybe then... maybe I'd fall for Carter Hayes. "Well," Carter said, his voice edged with amusement, "congratulations to the bitch and her playdate on their engagement." "What?" Jenna's voice cracked with shock, and I finally turned around, stepping closer to Carter—close enough that his hand never once left my waist. Jenna looked appalled. "Did you just call me a bitch?" Carter tilted his head and g

Hailey "Damien... listen—" I tried to push him away, but my body betrayed me. Again. No strength. No resistance. Just surrender to the heavenly hold of the devil—the scent of his skin, the heat of his body, the touch I swore had ruined me. "That's all I do, Hailey," he murmured, tightening his grip, his face nuzzling against my cheek, eyes clenched shut. "That's all I fucking do—listen and watch. Over and over. There's nothing else I can do, even though it kills me. I'm tearing out of my own chains, and it's terrifying. My world is collapsing and deep down I know—I destroyed it myself. I smashed it to pieces and I can't even fucking grieve." His voice cracked. "And still... I watch you. I hear your voice in my head, on loop. Every goddamn day." No. Don't fall for it, Hailey. This is a trap. You'll die in it. He'll kill you with a smile. 

Damien "Fuck this!" I stood there like a goddamn ghost, watching from afar as she left with Carter. My girl. My fucking everything—ripping away in the passenger seat of a man I despised. No—not despised. Hated. And not just because he existed, but because she chose him. And the fucked-up part? I made her. I pushed her straight into his arms. Carter Hayes. The world thought he’d turned into some reborn saint—washed clean by regret and redemption—maybe he himself did think as well. But I knew better. That fucker had more blood on his hands than I ever did. And somehow… somehow, that still didn’t make him the monster. No. I was the monster. Because my hands weren’t stained with strangers. They were drenched in Hailey—her trust, her tears, her broken fucking heart. An