บททั้งหมดของ Bound By Blood: The Step-Brothers' Temptation: บทที่ 241 - บทที่ 250

_Amelie’s POV_The moment Raphael’s eyes found me, the rope slipped through my shaking hands. My arms were trembling so badly that I couldn’t even feel the burn of the fabric cutting into my palms anymore. For one fleeting, insane heartbeat, I thought I could dive before they reached me, thought I could throw myself out the window and let the air swallow me whole. Because doing that was certainly way better than Raphael getting close to me again. But his men were already on me.They came so fast, I barely got the chance to react. The rope jerked back, my body wrenched with it. A shout tore from my throat as two pairs of hands clamped down on my arms, pinning me so tight I thought the bones would snap. I twisted, nails digging at skin, at sleeves, at anything I could tear open, but they only dragged me harder. I knew there was a chance I would lose my balance and fall off if they let go of me, but I didn't care. My heels scraped the wooden floor. The world tilted, then slammed up

It was either death or death. That was the two options he had given me.I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat was too dry.He smiled, slow and wide and gestured lazily toward the wall behind me.That was when I heard it—the hum. Low, mechanical, buzzing like a heart beginning to beat. My stomach sank as I twisted to look.A clock.Not small, not subtle. A massive face bolted high against the wall, red digital numbers flickering to life.05:00The sound it made when it ticked down—loud, sharp, metallic—cut through the stillness like a knife.What— what was that for?“Five minutes,” Raphael said simply, his voice echoing. “Five minutes to decide. Five doors. One leads to freedom. Four lead to death.”My eyes darted across the room, heart hammering so hard it shook my ribs. The doors were there, evenly spaced across the opposite wall. Each identical. Each dark, foreboding. My breath caught in my chest.“And if you don’t choose,” he added, that smile curling cruel, “the floor beneath yo

_Amelie’s POV_My heart beat furiously in my chest as I raced past the trees, sticks and stones digging deep into my feet.How did I get here?I had thought the silence was the worst part of being here. But I was dead wrong.I had been sitting on the cold floor, hugging my knees to my chest, still shaking from the “five doors” game, when the door slammed open. The sound of boots filled the room before I could even stand. Rough hands gripped my arms, yanking me up so fast my legs buckled beneath me. Pain flashed white behind my eyes.“What—what are you—” My words barely formed before one of them struck me across the cheek, not hard enough to knock me out, but enough to silence me. My head snapped to the side, vision blurring, taste of metal on my tongue. The slap was clean, practiced. I tasted blood and shame.They didn’t answer. They didn’t need to.They dragged me through a corridor I hadn’t seen before, a tunnel of shadow and muffled steps, my feet scraping the floor, my knees brui

Luca’s POV The silence was killing me. Not the silence of the room—I could hear Matteo’s uneven breathing as he paced like a caged animal, Nico’s fingers tapping furiously against his phone as if sheer persistence could force a signal out of the air. No, it wasn’t that silence. It was the silence on the other end of every call I made. Raphael wasn’t picking up. We’d scattered men across the city the moment we realized she was gone. Safe houses, warehouses, the docks—we turned over everything we could reach without drawing his direct attention. But it wasn’t enough. Hours felt like minutes, minutes like seconds, each one dragging her further out of reach. I sat on the edge of the table, bruises still screaming beneath my shirt. Liana had done what she could—no bleeding, just deep aches and a couple ribs that protested every breath. None of it mattered. Pain I could take. Pain I was used to. What I couldn’t stomach was the thought of her, alone and terrified, in Raphael’s hands. M

Amelie’s POVI woke to the sound of metal.Not footsteps, not doors—metal. Chains dragging, rattling, clanging against something hard. The noise burrowed under my skin, yanking me from a shallow, restless sleep. My eyes fluttered open, sticky with exhaustion, my head pounding as though Raphael’s gun still pressed against my skull.I wasn’t in the woods anymore. But some part of me wished Raphael had left me in there.But no, the room was bigger than what I had seen previously. High ceilings. Bright lights overhead, cold and artificial, glaring down so sharply they burned my eyes. It was sterile, stripped of comfort, but not empty. The air smelled of sweat, iron, and something acrid, like oil. My body lay on the cold floor, limbs stiff, wrists free but raw, the skin around them cut and red from ropes.And then I saw him.Raphael.He sat like a king on his throne, a plain chair elevated only by the way he occupied it. Black shirt rolled to the elbows, slacks crisp, his posture leisurel