All Chapters of THE TIES THAT BINDS US.: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The city of London unfolded like a gray, restless canvas beneath a sky that seemed as heavy as a thousand unsaid words. The streets buzzed with life—taxi cabs, hurried pedestrians, the soft whoosh of distant trains—but to Matthew, it all felt like a world away. He sat there, perfectly still, across from Lucian in the quiet hum of the restaurant. His fingers traced the rim of his untouched wine glass, the red liquid and a mockery of the pulse he couldn’t feel in his veins. The warm lights in the room should’ve felt comforting, but they only amplified the emptiness that clawed at his chest.Lucian, with his perfectly styled hair and confident, easy smile, was everything Matthew should have wanted. He was charming, effortlessly so, with a laugh that rang out like the chime of a bell—light, carefree, and disarming. He spoke about his day, about the little joys and challenges of work, about his plans for the weekend. Every word was polished and thoughtful. He was decent. He was kind. He wa

The Next MorningGolden sunlight spilled into the bedroom like a gentle caress, flooding the space with its warm, drowsy light. It filtered through the tall arched windows in soft beams, dancing across the floor and catching on the edges of the thick velvet drapes. The remnants of last night’s fire still glowed faintly in the hearth, little embers pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the ashes. The heat had faded, but a cocoon of warmth remained—stitched into the sheets, clinging to the air, and pulsing steadily between two intertwined bodies.Adrian held Matthew close, his arms a fortress around him. One hand rested protectively on the small of Matthew’s back, fingers splayed like he was anchoring him, even in sleep. The other lay curled in Matthew’s hair, gentle and absent, as if even his subconscious knew how fragile this moment was.And Matthew—he stayed still, barely breathing. His cheek was pressed against Adrian’s chest, listening to the calm, rhythmic thud of his heart. That sound

The BedroomThe silence in the bathroom was deceptive—thick, tense, almost holy in its stillness. It clung to the steam curling along the tiled walls, clung to the air heavy with heat and memory, like the last breath of a prayer whispered into the dark. Water slid down their skin in shimmering rivulets as Adrian rose from the bath, lifting Matthew as if he weighed nothing. One arm anchored under his thighs, the other braced at his back, steady and sure.Matthew didn’t resist. His breath caught—not in surprise, but because of the reverence in Adrian’s hold, the quiet worship in every inch of contact. He didn’t just carry him like something fragile—he carried him like something sacred. Like someone he had bled for. Fought wars for. Won.Water dripped in soft patterns onto the marble floor, echoing like the heartbeat of the moment as Adrian walked. Past the wide doorway, through the dimly lit hallway where shadows danced on the walls, through the glass-paned doors that always seemed too

Matthew’s mind spun in frantic, erratic circles, grasping at shadows in his memory—reaching for anything, anything that could explain the man’s face. A familiar scar. A crooked smile. A glint in the eye that might’ve once meant something. But it was a void. Blank. Nothing surfaced. And yet, there was something so wrong in the way the man looked at him. Like he was not a person, but a possession—something precious and hunted, finally cornered.And then—Footsteps.Sharp. Measured. Drawing nearer with the certainty of someone who belonged there.The man’s expression cracked.That eerie, hollow smile vanished. His jaw clenched. Something like frustration—or fear—flickered in his eyes before he shoved Matthew hard against the tiled wall, the impact of sending a jolt of pain through his back. The man stepped away just as the bathroom door burst open with a soft creak of worn hinges.“Matthew?”Adrian’s voice.Sharp. Urgent. Tinged with panic.Matthew’s knees almost gave out from the sound.

Matthew turned on his heel, the sharp click of his shoes ricocheting off the polished tiles of the deserted hallway like gunshots in the silence. The once-bustling corridor, now hollow and abandoned, stretched before him like a tunnel leading to freedom. He didn’t look back. Couldn’t. The air behind him felt thick, pressed in by a presence too heavy, too suffocating.He needed to get away—needed to breathe.Every muscle tensed as instinct roared in his blood.Run. Now.But he didn’t make it far.A hand clamped around his wrist.Not just firm—unyielding. Possessive. Branded with unspoken menace.Matthew froze, every nerve sparking with panic. The grip wasn’t meant to restrain. It was meant to claim. It pulsed with authority, intention, a silent threat wrapped in touch.His heart slammed against his ribs as he tried to yank free.“Where do you think you’re going?” the man behind him asked.The voice was calm—chillingly so. Each syllable rolled out like velvet wrapped around a knife. The