Semua Bab HER LYCAN STEPBROTHER’S OBSESSION: Bab 151 - Bab 160

Ivy's POVLiam glanced between me and Brandon, his eyes lingering on both of us for a beat too long, like he already sensed the weight of what was about to be said. Then he gave a slow, knowing nod.“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said quietly.He turned without waiting for a response and walked out of the room, the soft click of the door behind him somehow louder than it should have been.The silence that followed was suffocating.Brandon didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. He just laid there in the hospital bed, eyes locked on me, sharp, and steady. Waiting for the truth. For whatever it was I’d been holding in.And suddenly, I wished I didn’t have to say anything at all.My stomach twisted with guilt. The words sat like lead on my tongue, heavy and bitter. I didn’t want to say them. I didn’t want to see the look on his face change once I did.But I couldn’t keep it from him anymore.Not when it could cost him his life..My palms felt clammy. My heart pounded in my chest like it

Brandon's POVWe’d been chasing shadows for days. Every lead, every report, every shred of intel, it all led us in circles. Jeremy was always one step ahead, slipping out of our grasp before we even got close.The table in front of me was covered in maps, notes, and satellite prints. Zelia stood on one side with her arms crossed, calm but tense.Liam stalked restlessly near the window, tension written across his clenched jaw. Two of my top scouts lingered in the shadowed corner of the room, still and silent, their eyes scanning for a signal that wouldn't come.We had no lead. No direction. Just a pile of dead ends and a clock that wouldn’t stop ticking.“This is useless,” Liam muttered, dragging a tired hand down his face, frustration seeping from every word.“I know,” I murmured, massaging my temples as the pounding behind my eyes flared again. It had been hours since I'd felt clear-headed.“We’re wasting time,” Zelia interjected, her voice sharp with impatience. “We should use Ivy a

Ivy's POVI woke to the thick scent of old blood and smoke clinging to the air like rot. My head pounded with a deep, pulsing ache, and my wrists throbbed where rough rope bit into raw skin.The stone beneath me was freezing, sucking the warmth from my body as if the floor itself wanted to consume me. Every bone, every muscle felt bruised, like I’d been tossed down a mountain and left for dead.I blinked hard, trying to force my vision to focus.Candlelight flickered around me in a loose, eerie circle. Shadows danced along the walls, and the walls carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. But they looked ancient. This wasn’t just some hideout.This was a shrine.And then I saw him.Jeremy stood a few feet away, his back turned, shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin black cloth wrapped low around his hips. His skin glistened with sweat, and his muscles were tense.Even before he turned, I knew it was him. I could feel the wrongness in the air, the madness radiating from him

Ivy's POVGreece felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. The blue-domed buildings of Santorini, the golden sunlight glittering over the endless sea, the way time itself seemed to slow down here, everything felt suspended, like the world had pressed pause just for us.Every morning started the same. Brandon’s arms wrapped around me, his lips brushing lazy kisses down my shoulder as the early light filtered through the white curtains.We had slow, quiet lovemaking, the kind that made me feel safe, seen, adored. When we were done, he’d roll out of bed, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep, and disappear into the small kitchen of our villa. Moments later, the smell of fresh bread or honey would drift into the room.Somehow, he always managed to find the perfect breakfast. Greek yogurt drizzled with honey, ripe figs and sun-warmed apricots, pastries so soft they melted on the tongue. He’d feed me from his fingers, grinning between each bite as he stole kisses, like he couldn’t

Brandon's POVThis morning, I didn't let Ivy get a chance to lift a single finger.I was up before the sun, already halfway through making her breakfast by the time she stirred. Scrambled eggs, soft, just the way she liked them, thick slices of toasted bread slathered in butter, and that strange ginger tea she’d developed a sudden obsession with.I brought it all to her in bed, balancing the tray carefully as I leaned over to kiss her forehead.She tried to bat me away with a groggy glare. “I’m not an invalid, Brandon.”She said it with a pout, but I didn’t care. Watching her eat something I made, knowing it was for her and the baby, did something to me. It was more than pride. It was purpose.After breakfast, I insisted on helping her into the bath. She groaned and rolled her eyes, said she was fully capable of doing it herself, and maybe she was. But I wasn’t interested in capability. I was interested in caution. In care. I wasn’t going to risk her, or the life inside her, over stub