All Chapters of Dangerous Love: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Clyde’s POVThe harshness of the alcohol burned my skin as I rode through the city at speed, darkness wrapping around me like an old friend. That familiar numbness, that rage-filled silence, swallowed me whole. I stared hard at the latest picture on my phone. That same damn number. A new set of photos. This time, she was clad in only her underwear, chained to a bed. She looked smaller than she had this morning. And my cold, cursed heart ached beyond words. “We’ll get her back, Clyde. I promise you.” Diego’s voice rang out inside the car. I was holding the phone so tight it might snap in half. Too late. I was fucking too late. Now I had even bigger problems than before. The warehouse had been three hours out of the city. When we got to the cafeteria they were both gone. Will and my girl. And just when I tried to figure out where the hell they’d gone, my phone beeped again. That same number. That sick, twisted image of my precious lamb. Caught in bondage. And a m

The room echoed with the loud shot, the crack of it splitting the air like a lightning strike. My ears rang for seconds, sharp and shrill, as if the sound itself had buried into my skull.Fear gripped me in a stranglehold. My heart stopped—just stopped—as the moment stilled, suspended in a nightmare. The chandelier above quivered, then came crashing down with a heavy, jarring thud, shards scattering across the floor like glittering knives.When I open my eyes, they meet Saida’s—and what I see there sends a shiver down my spine. Fear. Real, gut-deep fear. For a second, I don’t know if it’s hers or mine. Then his voice slices through the tension like a blade, cold and cruel, dragging us back into the horror. He made the shot. Of course, he did."I swear the next bullet will be piercing through your skull, Saida," he gritted out, voice low and sharp like gravel. His hand didn’t flinch. The gun was still pressed into her head, the metal digging into her skin like a promise."Do not spoi

Three days.That’s how long she’s been gone. Disappeared like smoke in the wind. No calls. No texts. No trace.Three excruciating days without Allison, and still, I can't find the words to describe the slow, brutal agony of surviving each one. My lungs feel like they’ve forgotten how to breathe. Sleep? Forget it. I haven’t closed my eyes since the night she vanished.She’s got me on the fucking edge, unraveling me piece by piece. And now I know, with brutal, painful clarity—I can’t function without her. Not as Clyde. Not as the Viper. Not as anything.Every search has led to a dead end. No leads. No footprints. No mercy.Even her mother was no help—her eyes swollen from crying, but her voice flat and clueless. When Diego questioned Clara, there was the faintest shift in her expression. Subtle, but telling. Something about the way her gaze dropped too quickly. The tightness in her throat when she said, “No.”"Are you really sure she didn’t say anything to you? Not even a hint?""No," C

The room felt smaller all of a sudden, as if the walls were inching closer, listening.“I am the man people fear,” Clyde continued, his voice rough. “The name whispered on roads people don’t come back from. I am the one mothers warn their sons about.”My hands curled into fists at my sides.“But I am also that boy,” he went on, his chest rising sharply, “whose father ruined him. I am that boy who slept hungry. That boy who learned early that mercy doesn’t keep you alive.”“Don’t,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to sound steady. “Don’t you dare justify shit.”He stopped. Looked at me.“I’m not using it as an excuse,” he said.Silence stretched between us, thick and painful.“All you had to do,” I whispered, stepping closer now, unable to stay still, “was tell me the truth. That’s all. I begged you, Clyde. I begged you.”My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop.“I asked you over and over again. I gave you chances you didn’t deserve. And every time, you looked me in the eyes and

AlisonIt begins like a dream.Not the soft kind, not the gentle kind—but the kind where everything feels almost right, too warm, too calm, as if the world is trying to trick me into forgetting that it can still hurt.My mother’s voice floats into me before her face does.“Allison,” she says gently, the way she always does when she thinks I am on the edge of breaking. “My baby.”In my head I am standing in my childhood kitchen, the one with the cracked tiles and the window that never quite shuts. The air smells like fried onions and detergent. My siblings are laughing somewhere in the background, their voices overlapping, careless and alive. For a moment, my chest loosens.“Mom,” I whisper.I imagine her looking at me the way only she ever has—like she can see every mistake I’ve ever made and still choose me. Her hands are warm when they hold my face.“You sound tired,” she says. “What is wrong?”I swallow. Even in the dream, the truth weighs heavily.“There’s something I need to tell