All Chapters of Dangerous Love: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

AllisonBecause what he wants… is me.The words echo long after I say them.For a second, neither of us moves.The ocean keeps breathing around us like nothing catastrophic has just been confirmed.And then something inside me finally breaks.I sink back into the chair.A tear slips down my cheek.Then another.Then I’m laughing.It’s not a normal laugh. It sounds wrong even to my own ears — cracked, jagged, almost hysterical.“Of course,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Of course.”He watches me carefully. Too carefully.“Everyone wants to hurt you,” I say, my voice trembling, “so they use me.”I wipe at my face, but the tears won’t stop.“They have my family… all because I fell in love with you.”The laugh turns into a sob halfway through.It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think.Why does love hurt like this?Why does loving someone feel like volunteering for destruction?“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper. “I didn’t ask to be a pawn in your war.”His jaw tightens.“I know I’ve hurt you

Author’s povThe mansion was quiet, but not peaceful. It was the kind of silence that waited.Saida sat alone in the large sitting room of her estate. The lights were low. A single lamp glowed beside her. Smoke curled slowly around her face as she lifted a cigarette to her lips.On the large screen in front of her, Alaric Butch stared back.He sat in his private study. A glass of dark liquor rested in his hand. He did not look relaxed. His jaw was tight. His eyes were sharp and cold.It was rare to see the two of them together like this.They were not allies and certainly not friends.But they shared one thing — hatred for Clyde.Alaric took a slow sip of his drink, then lowered the glass.“You were not supposed to attack the Rivero family,” he said flatly.Saida blew out smoke and leaned back in her chair.“You’ve brought more trouble to the table,” he continued. “Of all families, the Riveros were the last people you should have touched.”She rolled her eyes slightly. “Relax.”His ex

AllisonI barely recognized the woman staring back at me.The black dress hugged my body like it had been made for me. It stopped just above my knees, soft fabric clinging to my waist and hips. Simple. Elegant. Dangerous.My hair had been pulled into a high ponytail. Smooth. Clean. It made my neck look longer. My cheekbones sharper.The beautician stepped back. “You look stunning.”I forced a smile. Stunning.Like I was going to a gala and not walking into the mouth of a monster.When she left, the room grew quiet. I kept staring at myself in the mirror.This is what you look like when you’re about to gamble your family’s lives.My heart wouldn’t slow down. I didn’t hear the door open, but I felt him. That shift in the air. That heavy presence.I looked up.He was standing behind me, hands in his pockets. No jacket yet. Just a fitted black shirt tucked into dark trousers. The sleeves rolled slightly at his wrists. Calm and controlled.Too calm.Our eyes met through the mirror. Somethi

Allison“It was supposed to be just us,” I said, my voice tighter now, thinner. “You and Clyde. That’s what you said.”Alaric dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin like we were discussing business over tea.“Well,” he said mildly, “Saida is family. She is my son’s wife.”Clyde let out a short laugh that held no humor.“Son?” He leaned back in his chair, slow, deliberate. “I never had a father. So cut the crap and tell me why you brought the bitch here.”Saida’s fingers tightened around her wine glass, but she didn’t look at him.I leaned toward Clyde and whispered sharply, “Can you at least shut up?”He frowned at me, jaw flexing, but he did close his mouth.The table felt unstable. Like if one more word was said too loudly, everything would flip.I looked back at Alaric.“I don’t care what twisted father-son relationship the two of you are pretending to maintain,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough. “But this—” I gestured between them, between Saida, between all of it.

ClydeThe warehouse smelled like metal and oil and old blood. I could barely breathe. We had retreated to one of my hideouts.“How?” I roared, hurling the glass across the room. It shattered against the concrete wall and sprayed down like rain. “How does he move them out of the country and I don’t know about it?”No one answered.Scar stood near the steel table, arms crossed, jaw tight. The rest of my men filled the space, silent but coiled, waiting for orders.I dragged a hand through my hair and started pacing.This is fucked up. Her mother. The twins.Gone. Right under my nose.I should have seen it coming. I know what my father is capable of. I know the kind of monster that raised me.“He’s not doing to her mother what he did to mine,” I muttered, then louder, “He’s not.”The memory hit like a blade — my mother on the floor, my father standing over her, blood everywhere.I grabbed another glass off the table and threw it too.“The war has begun!” I shouted. “Do you hear me? This d