All Chapters of His Pretty Little Liar - The Devil’s Snare - Book 1: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

Continued: "Shut up, Mother," Franko demands, his tone icy and frightening, as the back of his hand meets her cheek with a resounding crack. The atmosphere shifts sharply; every feminine gaze drops to their laps, avoiding the growing tension. The other women present are notably younger, and I can't shake the impression that they might be girlfriends rather than wives or mothers to Derek's sons. Their expressions are a mix of shock, fear, and, most importantly, jealousy. "I see that's taken my sons by surprise," Derek admits with a keen smile, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement. "The women can leave now," he stipulates, beckoning the men from outside to assist in herding them away. As they pull their chairs back, a silent invitation to stand, one man approaches me, but Derek intercepts him with a slow shake of his finger. "She stays." The man steps back, compliance etched across his features, as he helps usher the other women out. He closes the door with a heavy thud behi

Continued: "Yeah, I know that," I reply, my frown deepening as Sven looks at me guiltily. "But what I don't understand is what the hell happened to you." "I chose to leave; I couldn't bring myself to believe you would keep us safe. And sending in that phone was a sure way to track its whereabouts, not to mention the tracker they led us to believe resided in Bianca. But you have accomplished a far better job than I ever could. We wouldn't have gotten out of that hotel without your quick thinking." "We both failed," I reply with a slight shrug, my gaze drifting toward Luca as I make my way over to where Sven is sitting. He has tidied himself up a bit now—his injuries are still visible in the form of cuts and bruises, the only remnants of the brutal attack he endured. The blood that once stained his skin is gone, along with the vacant, haunted expression the drugs had induced. "Can you walk me through what happened?" "I went to seek assistance from a friend. I could trust him, so I t

"Make sure she doesn't harm him,"I command, snapping my fingers with a sense of urgency. Solomen meets my gaze, his eyes reflecting understanding as he gives a sharp nod before quickly retreating to follow my orders. I gesture toward the grand dining room doors, signalling for them to be locked securely. Moments later, I hear the sound of the heavy bolts sliding into place while my men stand resolutely at their posts outside, their watchful presence a silent promise of protection."I'm sorry about that,"I mutter with despair, putting my working blinkers back on to get to the point of this meeting."I brought you here for a purpose, and I need your help. That girl possesses something incredibly valuable—information that could protect our families from the ever-looming shadows of fear. With the numbers she holds, we can finally assert control, ensuring that Puro becomes enforceable and our futures secure. Look around us. With the presence of your son Debois, your grandson Moretta, and t

BenjiHe struck me again, his belt snapping against the already raw and bruised skin from the morning's beating. I shouldn't have challenged him so quickly after volunteering myself as a sacrifice; I should have remained silent, allowing him to take her without a whisper of dissent. She means nothing to me; at least, that's what I tried to convince him—and myself. Yet, if he goes through with his lethal intent, how will I find a way to break free from this suffocating prison he has constructed around my family? The very thought gnaws at me, twisting in my gut like a vile serpent, tightening its grip with each passing moment.I watch her sleep, her delicate figure wrapped in the gentle embrace of my warmth, nestled against the expansive landscape of my body. I hold her close, an instinctual urge to shield her from the world's harshness pulsing through me. It is a forbidden act to share a bed with a woman unless Derek, my father, grants permission for intimacy, and though he did imply t

Bianca I can't seem to eat; my body feels like it's been put through a relentless grinder, and every inch of me aches painfully. The evening is a blur—a hazy fog of confusion lingers in my mind. I awoke in a disorienting haze, lying next to a stranger, a man who was definitely not my husband. Him, I woke up wrapped around him. What is happening to me? And what on earth transpired last night? I pace the room, which echoes the devastation of a bomb site, every surface cluttered with remnants of chaos. Clothes of varying fabrics—some crumpled, others still folded—are strewn haphazardly across the floor, creating a disordered landscape that reflects a turbulent state of mind. Among the debris, broken picture frames lie scattered, their glass missing, and I can hear the sharp crunch beneath my feet with each tentative step as I break the wood even more. I pause to wonder if those empty frames had once held cherished memories, or if they merely served as hollow ghosts in this room.