All Chapters of Bound By Blood: The Step-Brothers' Temptation: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

_Amelie’s POV_I woke to the smell of dust and rust and old wood. My wrists screamed against the coarse rope that bound me to a chair, every tiny movement making them chafe. My head throbbed from the bump on the back of it, and the metallic taste of fear was still thick on my tongue. I blinked against the dim light filtering through cracked windows, trying to take in my surroundings.My last memory was of Raphael’s call. He had sounded so angry that it scared me. I knew something had happened but I just couldn't tell what. The last thing I saw before the butt of his gun hit my head was the rage in his eyes.And now I was here. I had no idea where it was he had taken me to, but from what I could see, we were at a warehouse. At this point, I almost rolled my eyes at the thought. If not a warehouse, where else would you take a hostage?The floorboards were worn, scuffed with tracks of countless feet. Shadows clung to every corner. Beams of faint sunlight—or what was left of it at th

_Amelie’s POV_The ropes bit into my wrists until my skin was raw. Every time I shifted, the fibers tore at me again, reopening the same grooves, deepening the burn. My stomach cramped with hunger—I’d lost count of how many hours since I’d last eaten, maybe two days now. The water was worse. They’d let me drink once, just enough to keep me from passing out, then left me to dehydrate. My tongue felt like leather, my lips cracked.The warehouse smelled of iron and rot, a metallic tang mixed with damp wood and old blood. They hadn’t even bothered to clean the stains from the concrete floor. I sat tied to a chair in a corner, a single flickering lightbulb buzzing above, throwing my shadow against the wall like some twisted painting.The worst wasn’t the hunger, or the ropes, or even the endless waiting. It was being forced to watch it all happen.Raphael made sure I had a front-row seat whenever his men dragged someone in. Beatings. Broken bones. One man shot in the kneecaps before being

_Amelie’s POV_The world exploded into chaos.One moment, silence stretched out, Raphael’s men and the brothers standing in the shadow of the abandoned airstrip, guns pointed but fingers holding. The next, it broke apart—shouting, the crack of gunfire, smoke blooming like some monstrous flower.Everything blended into one and turned into total chaos.I screamed before I even realized it, the sound tearing out of me, useless and thin against the storm. Bullets ripped the air. Sparks flew from the corrugated walls of the hangar. I dropped to my knees, my hands instinctively covering my head though I knew it was pointless. There was nowhere safe. No corner to hide.I had broken out of the hold of whoever had held me, but running towards the triplets now was death. I rather get to them in one piece. I was caught in the middle of a storm right now.“Amelie!”His voice cut through everything—hoarse, desperate. Nico.I turned my head just in time to see him rushing forward, breaking cover,

_Luca’s POV_Amelie crumpled before I even understood what was happening.One moment she was on her feet, pale and shaking, muttering something about finding a bathroom. The next, her knees buckled. She swayed like a brittle branch in a storm.“Amelie!” The word ripped out of me before I could stop it.Her body went limp, tipping forward. My chest seized. Instinct roared through me. I lunged, catching her before her head could smack against the cracked cement floor. My arms closed around her narrow frame, and the shock of her weight—or rather, the lack of it—struck me harder than the gunfire had hours earlier.She was feather-light. Hollow.I don't know what we had been expecting after we had just rescued her. But the sight of Nico being shot had taken out focus away from that. I felt stupid and bad. Her head lolled against my shoulder, her face slack, lashes damp against her cheeks. For one terrible heartbeat, I thought she was gone.“No, no—” My voice was ragged. My hands shook a

_Amelie’s POV_The first thing I felt was the weight in my arm.Something foreign tugging at my skin. A slow, steady drip into my veins.IV.I tried to stirr, but the tug in my arm stopped me. I blinked against the haze, lids heavy as lead, and the blur of the ceiling sharpened into cracked plaster and yellow light. My body ached everywhere — dull, bone-deep, the kind of ache that spoke of collapse, of exhaustion, of being wrung dry until there was nothing left.I turned my head with effort, the thin pillow scratching against my cheek.That was when I saw him.Matteo.He was slumped on the floor, back pressed against the edge of my bed, his long frame folded uncomfortably. His head tilted to the side, his face slack with sleep, his hand resting inches from mine on the mattress. Close enough that, if I moved even a little, I could slide my fingers against his.But he hadn’t touched me.Not once.Even in sleep, his posture screamed restraint.I stared at him, disoriented, my chest tigh