All Chapters of I AM YOURS TO PLAY: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter 11: Rivalry And HateRYAN’S POVI pushed through the heavy door of The Rusty Anchor, a dive bar on the edge of Chicago’s south side, the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke hitting me like a wave. The dim lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the cracked wooden floor, the jukebox in the corner playing some mournful country tune that grated on my nerves. I adjusted my jacket, my eyes scanning the room, my jaw tight as I spotted Viktor Salazar in the back booth, his broad frame hunched over a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes glinting with a cold amusement. I strode over, my polished shoes sticking slightly to the floor, my hands shoved into my pockets, my hatred for Ethan Caldwell simmering in my chest like a love wire. I slid into the booth across from Viktor, my movements sharp, my expression hard. “Cousin,” I greeted, my voice low, my tone clipped, my eyes locking onto his. Viktor smirked, his scarred face twisting, his dark hair slicked back, his leather jacke

Chapter 13: A Desperate PleaETHAN’S POVI lay on the bed, my wrists and ankles free from the chains but still raw from their bite, my body trembling with exhaustion. My shirt hung open, the buttons torn apart by Lucian’s rough hands earlier, sweat beading on my chest, my light brown hair plastered to my forehead. My hazel eyes flickered toward him, my heart pounding as he sat beside me, his gray eyes distant, his jet-black hair disheveled, a bandage wrapped haphazardly around his bloodied knuckles from the fight he’d returned from. His confession from moments ago—his fear of losing control—still hung in the air, a crack in his armor I hadn’t expected. My ribs ached, my face throbbed from Marco earlier punches, but I summoned what strength I had left, my voice hoarse, my words stumbling as I broke the silence.“J-just… let me go, Lucian… p-please…”He turned his head slowly, his gray eyes narrowing, his jaw tightening as he stared at me, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down

Chapter 15: Third Escape, Brutal ReckoningETHAN’S POVI lay awake on the silk sheets, my body tense, my heart hammering as Lucian’s steady breathing filled the room. He’d kissed me earlier, his lips lingering with a hunger that left me trembling, but I stayed alert, my mind racing with escape. The moment his breaths deepened into sleep, I slid from the bed, my bare feet silent against the floor, my muscles aching from the night’s tension. I knew this room like the back of my palm—two years as Evan had taught me Lucian’s habits. My eyes scanned the shadows, landing on a Glock perched carelessly on the cabinet, its black metal glinting under the moonlight. Suspicion gnawed at me—too easy, too exposed—but I grabbed it, my fingers trembling around the cold grip, and snatched a car key from the dresser, my plan crystallizing. I’d bolt through the garage, steal a car, and drive like hell out of here. I crept to the door, easing it open, the hinges groaning faintly, but Lucian didn’t stir

Chapter 17: A Stolen Moment ETHAN’S POVI woke to the soft hum of an IV drip, my body sinking into a clean, crisp bed in a room that felt alien—walls painted a muted gray, sunlight filtering through heavy curtains, the air tinged with antiseptic. My bruises throbbed, tender patches of purple and yellow across my arms and chest, but someone had tended them, bandages wrapped with care. I tried to sit up, my muscles protesting, a sharp headache slicing through my skull like a blade. Memories flooded back—Marco’s cruel grin, the electric jolt of the cattle prod, Lucian’s cold smile as he watched me writhe the night before. My breath hitched, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my temples, the pain a relentless reminder of my failure. The door creaked open, and Lucian stepped in, his presence filling the room, his jet-black hair tousled, his white shirt unbuttoned to reveal the taut planes of his chest. His gray eyes softened as they met mine, a stark contrast to the rage I’d seen l

Chapter 19: A Fragile Trust ETHAN’S POVI perched on the edge of the bed in a shadowed corner of Lucian’s mansion, the room cloaked in a heavy silence broken only by the faint drip of a faucet somewhere down the hall. The air carried a sterile tang, mingling with the raw, acrid scent of the burn mark on my arm—a jagged, blistered wound left by Viktor Salazar’s cigar. My hands shook as I pressed a damp cloth to the tender flesh, each touch igniting a sharp stab of pain that radiates up my arm, my fingers slick with a mix of water and the faint traces of ointment someone had smeared on earlier. My body ached, a symphony of bruises and welts from the flogging, my ribs throbbing with every shallow breath I forced into my lungs. The ordeal replayed in my mind like a relentless nightmare—the crack of leather against my skin, the searing heat of that cigar, Viktor’s mocking laughter echoing as his men tore into me. A shudder ran through me, and a tear slipped free, tracing a warm path down