Todos os capítulos de Reclaiming Her Love: Capítulo 171 - Capítulo 180

Sylvia The Rhodes estate looked different in daylight.The grand stone walls no longer felt intimidating. The tall arched windows no longer felt like silent eyes watching our every move. The long driveway, once a path of power and fear, now looked like an invitation.They felt like home.Morning sunlight spilled across the front steps, catching on the iron gates and softening the sharp edges of everything that used to frighten me. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and early spring.The house wasn’t looming anymore.It was breathing.Stella stood in the center of the foyer that morning, spinning slowly beneath the crystal chandelier, her boots echoing lightly against the marble floor.“Can you believe this?” she said, half laughing. “This place is actually ours.”She stopped spinning and looked up at the ceiling like she expected it to disagree.“Legally and morally,” I replied as I stepped down the curved staircase.She grinned. “I like the sound of that.”The foyer no longer carr

Sylvia Logan dragged me through smoke and debris, his grip crushing around my wrist as if letting go meant losing me forever.“Panic room,” he shouted. “Now!”The air was thick, suffocating. Every breath tasted like chemicals and burning varnish. The once-polished floors of the Rhodes estate were splintered and scorched, chunks of plaster and shattered glass crunching beneath our feet. The portraits lining the hallway, generations of Rhodes ancestors staring down in oil and gold frames, were either shattered or hanging crookedly from broken nails.The house sounded alive.Groaning.Dying.We stumbled into the grand foyer.And froze.The massive oak double doors, hand-carved, reinforced, a symbol of legacy, were gone. Blown clean off their hinges. One lay splintered against the staircase. The other had been hurled halfway across the marble floor.Smoke poured in from outside like a living thing, crawling along the ceiling and spilling downward.And through it….They came.Four men.Bl

LoganThe first thing I felt was cold.Not the kind that comes from winter air or rain-soaked clothes.This was deeper.Colder.Stone pressed hard against my cheek, rough, damp, unyielding. It leached warmth straight from my skin like it had been waiting for me. The smell reached me next. Mold. Dust. Rusted metal. And something else beneath it, something sour and rotten that clung to the back of my throat.My head felt heavy.Like someone had cracked it open and filled it with sand.A slow, punishing throb pulsed behind my eyes.For a moment, I didn’t move. Instinct. Assess before reacting. Breathe through the disorientation.Inhale.The air tasted stale.Exhale.My tongue felt thick. My throat burned.Memory came in fragments.Fire. Smoke.Gravel digging into my knees.Sylvia screaming my name.A cloth.Darkness.My eyes snapped open. Dark.Not absolute darkness, but enough that it took several seconds for shapes to separate from shadow. A dim bulb somewhere overhead flickered weakly

LoganSilence swallowed the cellar after the men left.Not the kind of silence that brings peace.The kind that presses in.Heavy. Suffocating. Waiting.I counted to fifty before I moved.Not because I was afraid.Because I needed certainty.No footsteps above. No shift in floorboards. No hinge groaning open again.Just the low hum of electricity and the faint drip in the far corner.I dragged myself toward Sylvia.Inch by inch.The rusted pipe scraped behind me, metal grinding softly against concrete. The sound made my jaw tighten, but I didn’t stop. If they heard it and came down, I’d deal with that when it happened.Right now, she mattered more.I moved until I was close enough to see her face clearly in the weak overhead light.Her lips were dry.Her skin was pale in a way that didn’t look natural, like all the warmth had been siphoned out of her veins.Her eyes were closed, lashes resting against cheeks that had lost their color.She looked fragile.Too fragile.I hated that word

LoganThe cellar door opened again.The sound alone was enough to make every muscle in my body lock tight.Light spilled down the narrow wooden steps, slicing through the darkness like a blade. I dropped my head instantly, letting my body sag as if exhaustion had finally claimed me. My wrists burned where the zip-ties cut into them, but I forced myself to go limp.Two pairs of boots descended.Slow. Unhurried. Confident.Mercenaries.I kept my breathing shallow. Even. Broken, but not defiant.One of them carried a syringe.My stomach dropped.No.No, no, no.They walked straight past me like I wasn’t even worth looking at.Straight to her.“She looks worse,” one of them muttered.“Doesn’t matter,” the other replied. “Boss said keep her under.”Keep her under.Like she was nothing more than an inconvenience. Like she was cargo.The man crouched beside Sylvia.I saw the needle catch the light.I felt something inside me fracture.Don’t move.Don’t react.Don’t give them a reason.But wh