บททั้งหมดของ The Man I Swore to Hate: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The city lights outside the plane window blurred into streaks of cold, indifferent colors. The hum of the engines drowned out the pounding in my chest, but not the storm inside my mind. Each second felt like a slow unraveling—my thoughts spiraling, tangled with fear, regret, and a strange, fragile hope I didn’t dare fully embrace.I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, the world shrinking below me, just like the life I was leaving behind. The life where I thought I had a place. Where I thought I had a future.But what was left of that now? Nothing but shards of a dream I’d been holding onto with bleeding hands.Romero’s mother’s voice echoed endlessly in my head — cold, sharp, a blade cutting deeper than her slap could ever reach.“You’ve broken him.”I swallowed hard. Had I really? Was I the poison she warned him about? Or was I just an easy target, the outsider who threatened their perfect little world? Maybe both. Maybe I was everything they feared and hated because I dared

Monaco was drenched in luxury and light. But I didn’t notice any of it. The private wing of the airport was quiet, marble floors gleaming under the overhead lights, attendants whispering in polished French. It should have felt like safety—like a sanctuary carved out by wealth and distance. But I moved like a hunted animal, eyes darting, pulse sprinting. I kept checking behind me. Watching the corners. Looking for him. I wore a hat and sunglasses, as if I were famous again. As if disguise could shield me from memories.The security escort my father sent was polite but silent. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t comment on the way I clutched my bag like it held my soul. I kept my phone on airplane mode. I didn’t connect to Wi-Fi. I didn’t trust the world not to leak. On the plane, I couldn’t sleep. My body curled up tight in the leather seat, I kept replaying it—his figure by the tree line, still and dark, etched into the night like it belonged there. My mind whispered things I didn’t want

The midday sun bore down unrelentingly on the open field, searing everything beneath it, but the heat barely registered to me. Around me, the game came to an abrupt halt—players drawing in their horses, uncertainty written across their faces as they glanced around, searching for answers. The sudden disruption left them puzzled, unsettled. But I paid them no mind. My attention was locked elsewhere, my heartbeat pounding so loudly it nearly drowned out everything else. Step after deliberate step, I advanced across the well-manicured field, the neatly trimmed grass crunching beneath my shoes.From the stands, murmurs began to rise—low at first, then escalating into surprised gasps and hushed exclamations. The crowd realized something was wrong. They knew this wasn’t part of the match. That someone—me—had broken an unspoken rule. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for their spectacle or their opinions. Their curiosity, their judgment—it was all irrelevant.This was personal.This was about

I stared at the guns. The burner phones. The bag packed like he’d been ready to run all this time.Everything inside me twisted. Not because he was hiding—God, I was used to secrets. But because it felt like I had been the mission all along."You were supposed to protect me." My voice cracked, low and trembling. “And all this time... you were watching me.”He didn’t flinch. That scared me more than anything.“I was assigned to you,” Perion said, quietly. “By the Bureau. The unit embedded me in the Syndicate three years ago. They wanted someone on the inside. Someone who could tell them when the Paradis family was next.”I felt the floor vanish under my feet.Assigned. Embedded. Syndicate.“You were a cop,” I whispered, eyes wide. “You’re a cop.”“I still am,” he said. “Undercover, for years. Carmenta, you weren’t supposed to know. None of this was supposed to—”“No,” I cut in, my voice sharp. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you didn’t choose me. Like you didn’t touch me, kiss me, sleep

The cold stung my wrists, the metal biting into my skin as I blinked awake. I’d lost track of time in the dark—seconds, minutes, hours, they all blurred together here. The space around us smelled of rust and damp concrete, the kind of place that had never seen daylight.Across from me, Perion sat, his head bowed, chains rattling faintly as his body trembled. I saw it before I heard it—his shoulders hitching, his breath hitching.Then the sound came: not a scream, not a curse, but a broken cry. A guttural, raw wail of a man trying to stifle his grief.“Please,” he whispered, again and again. “Not her. Take me. Take me instead.”My body froze, heart hammering, as I tried to sit upright in the hard metal chair. We were chained to opposite sides of a rotted support column in what looked like an abandoned slaughterhouse. The floor was stained, the air dense. It smelled of oil, blood, and things I didn’t want to name. The shadows shifted. Footsteps.And then I saw him—the man I recognized o