All Chapters of Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

129 Chapters

100: Christmas present ll

~~PEYTON~~ “Merry Christmas, Princess," Axel chirps out of nowhere, his eyes bright with a mischief that usually means trouble for my sanity. "Merry Christmas," Raphael adds. “I trust Axel didn't wake you too abruptly?" "He tried to eat my face, if that's what you mean," I say dryly. I look past him toward the tree, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. It’s not just a few gifts. It’s an avalanche—gold paper, silk ribbons, and boxes so big I could probably hide inside them. "What is all this?" "Everything you didn't ask for, but we decided you needed," Raphael says, leading me toward the center of the room to the dining table, where a single, small velvet box sits next to my breakfast. "I told you I don't want jewelry," I groan. "I have enough diamonds to sink a ship." "It's not jewelry," Raphael says, pulling out my chair for me. I frown and open the box. Inside isn't a ring or a necklace. It’s a key. A gold-plated key with a small leather tag that has a single word embossed on i

101: Is this a date?

~~PEYTON~~PEYTONIt’s 10:00 AM.In my former life, I’d be on my third meeting.Now? I’ve spent forty-five minutes debating whether I should nap or walk to the kitchen to see if the fridge has grown any new snacks since 9:45.Being a Thorne baby mama sounds great on paper until you realize the job description is basically being a pampered house cat with morning sickness.I feel like a broken clock—stuck at the same hour every day while the world moves on."Quiet time is good for the baby," Axel whispered this morning before kissing my forehead.Easy for him to say. He gets to go out and be a menace to society. I’m stuck here wondering if I can teach the house staff to play poker for high stakes to feel a spark of joy.But just then, when I finally decide on a nap, my phone rings.Unknown number.Why do I have a feeling it’s Odin? He calls me from different numbers, or I'm just the one who doesn't save his contact.If it’s him, he’s probably calling to remind me of his engagement party

102: Ghost from Pahrump

~~PEYTON~~I saunter over, trying to channel my inner "I-own-the-room" energy to mask the fact that my heart is trying to kick its way out of my chest."Nice place, Jason," I say, sliding into the booth. "But you didn't have to—”"You look good, Peyton." He cuts me off. "Different. Expensive."“Oh.” I fake a smile, glancing at my coat that seemed too laughably basic for a place like this. “Thanks, but you didn't have to—”“And your hair… I love what you did with it." He cuts me off again. He's going to have to stop doing that. Besides, I just let it fall on my back as it's grown longer than before.Where is he going with this, anyway? He wouldn't even let me say he didn't have to do all this.The waiter appears out of thin air. He doesn't even offer a menu; he sets down Osetra caviar nestled on a bed of crushed ice, followed by other expensive-looking appetizers."I didn't order this," I say."It’s on the house, Miss," the waiter murmurs.I turn back to Jason, my eyes narrowing into s

103: High road to the grave, Jason

~~PEYTON~~I march down the long driveway. I think my anger has reached its boiling point. Jason thinks he can copy and paste his obsession into my life, and I'll let it slide. I know a headache is coming out of this, but the pills will handle it just fine. I've survived worse body crashes before."What part of 'don’t follow me' don’t you understand, Jason? Is it the 'don't' or the 'follow'?" I spit.Jason gets out of the car, looking disheveled and desperate.He sighs, trying to get a word out. I cut in. "You don't get to sigh; you're the annoying one." "I'm worried about you," he snaps, and honestly analyzing his expression, his voice, the soft tunes, his eyes—you actually believe you're the crazy one.“I don't need your worry or whatever you think is best for me. If you think they’re bad for me or they’ll dump me when they’re bored or they’ll have a new shiny toy to replace me by next month... Fine! I love whatever is wrong with them, and frankly, I love the way they treat me lik

104: Get out!

~~PEYTON~~I think I hit him.I lunge the car forward without hesitation. One moment, he was standing with audacity, and the next, he was scrambling out of the way, tripping all over himself.I don't stop. I don't look back to see if he's face down in the gravel or just shaking the dust off his clothes.The image of him scrambling—clumsy, desperate—should make me laugh. It should be the ultimate win. But as I pull into the garage and the heavy door rolls shut, the victory feels like lead in my stomach.And it’s not just exhaustion; it’s a throbbing headache that starts at the base of my skull and settles right behind my eyes.I stumble into the kitchen, the bright lights making me wince.As I reach for a glass, the sound of my name makes me jump.“Jesus.”I slam my butt against the counter, clutching my chest as strange footsteps sound from the living room, and now it's stepping into the kitchen.I scan the place, my eyes locking on a fry pan sitting on the stovetop not too far away.

105: Natalie's shit.

~~PEYTON~~“Axel”“Hmm.”“Will you replace me?”His hand, which had been idly stroking the back of my head, stops mid-motion. He doesn't go stiff or dramatic; he just goes quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you realize you’ve said the one thing you shouldn't have.I shift slightly, lying on top of him with my chin resting on his chest so I can see his face in the dim light.“Everyone seems to think I have a shelf life.” I add, but he doesn't frown; his expression doesn't change.“And by everyone, who are they exactly?”I rest my head back on his chest, toying with the button on his chest like I have nothing better to do.It's just that I'm hesitant. I haven't told them about Jason or Odin’s uninvited pop-up in the kitchen.“Just people,” I mumble into his skin, scratching the fabric of his shirt. “The kind that like to remind me I’m just a guest with a fancy title and a temporary pass.”Axel’s hand starts moving again, but this time his fingers weave through my hair, tugging gently u

106: No, thank you.

~~PEYTON~~I walk toward the garage, stopping at some point and twirling around nonstop. Raphael really outdid himself this time. He's considerate as hell. I keep glancing at my reflection in the glass cases along the hallway, doing a little half-turn to see how the fabric catches the light.The dress is incredible. It’s this glistening material that looks like liquid moonlight, and the cut is actually... thoughtful. It’s fitted but not I-can’t-breathe tight, with a deep neckline and straps that make me feel expensive without feeling inconvenient.But the real MVP? The shoes!I walk a few paces forward and pivot, testing the comfort of the two-inch heels. Raphael is a genius.He picked these out knowing damn well I’m carrying extra cargo, even if we aren’t saying the P-word out loud yet.They’re classy, stable, and I could probably run a sprint in them if I had to—which, knowing this family, isn’t out of the question.This is exactly why I let Raphael handle the wardrobe. If I’d left

107: Esme in the background

~~PEYTON~~We make our way to the VIP table right by the stage, and let me tell you, the walk there is like navigating a minefield of judging eyes.We pass by Arlo, and the way he looks at me... it’s not just a glance. It’s a slow, burning stare that feels like it’s peeling my skin and bursting holes in my body.I don't get why he hates me so much. It's not like we know each other that well. Is that how people easily hate?I instinctively lean closer to Raphael, trying to shake the creepy look. But it only gets worse.I see them—Quinn and Esme.Quinn looks bored, but Esme? She doesn’t even spare me a glance. She’s looking right through me as if I’m part of the wallpaper.I try to act like it doesn't bother me—I’m a sassy, unbothered woman, right?—but to be honest, it hurts. Her blatant snubs always do.It’s that subtle reminder that to people like her, I’m just a temporary glitch in her life.“Esme or Arlo, which of their stares bothers you?” I blink, looking up to find Axel watching

108: Get me out of here

~~PEYTON~~Esme freezes, but it only lasts for two seconds. She raises her head to stare at me through the mirror and chuckles.“What’s the matter, Peyton? Getting bored of your trophy boyfriends already?" She pauses to smooth her hair, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Don't tell me they aren't entertaining enough for you.”She leans into the word "boyfriends" like she’s trying to twist a knife. Poor thing. She thinks she’s playing with my feelings, but she’s barely scratching the surface.She's the one suffering. Not me.“Hiding it won't make you tough, Esme. It just makes you stupid,” I say, leaning against the cold marble.Her jaw clenches, but she holds that neutral, porcelain-doll expression. “Hiding what, exactly?”“What’s your deal with Arlo, anyway?” I push, watching her reflection closely. “A man with a destructive ego like that wouldn't usually choose someone like you. I used to think you two might be compatible, but I’m starting to reevaluate that.”That did it.I see the

109: Obsessed stalker

~~RAPHAEL~~“And you're telling us now?” I snap, still finding it hard to believe Peyton would keep something like this from us. From me.She's sitting on the couch, curling her toes, and finding it hard to explain.“Raphael, I—”“No, we have spent every waking second making sure you were safe. We built a schedule. We vetted the staff, and you’re telling me that the one person who actually poses a threat followed you to the party we took you to?”I start to pace around the room, scanning the place for something to break.I usually keep it cool, but not this time. Not when she might be in danger.“Do you know what a stalker is? What goes on in their brain?”Axel, who's been leaning on the wall, cuts in. “Raph, that's enough.”“No, it's not enough!” I roar, finally grabbing a heavy crystal decanter from the side table and hurling it into the fireplace.The sound of it shattering is the only thing that matches the jagged edge in my chest.Axel sighs. “Oh great, destroy the place.”“He’s

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