All Chapters of MEND ME IF YOU CAN.: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Dain’s grip on Soren tightened like a vice, nails digging into his wrist until the sting crawled up his arm like fire. The sharp bite of pain rooted him in place, and his breath hitched when Dain leaned closer, his hot breath spilling venom against his ear.“You really thought you could walk away from me? From us?” His words dripped with possession, each syllable carved deep into Soren’s skin like a brand. “Travian might’ve picked up your broken pieces, but don’t fool yourself, Soren. You belong to me.”The alley reeked of damp concrete and rust, the air thick with rot, but all Soren could feel was the suffocating heat of Dain’s presence swallowing him whole. Panic rushed through him in violent waves, making his chest pound as if his ribs would splinter. He twisted hard, jerking against the larger man, but Dain loomed like a wall, a shadow that refused to move.“I don’t belong to you, Dain,” Soren spat, the words trembling even as he forced them out. His throat burned with fear, but a

The alley froze under the blaze of fresh headlights. The light sliced through the dark like a blade, turning trash-strewn asphalt into a stage of sharp, exposed shapes. Faces that had been half-hidden in shadow snapped into view—slick hair, flinching eyes, the quick, ugly bright of blood on skin. The first group of gunmen shifted uneasily; the man in the long coat—their leader—narrowed his eyes as if trying to puzzle the scene into order. For a heartbeat, everything held its breath. The silence was thin and tense, broken only by the hiss of engines and the soft, ragged moans of men who couldn’t stand.Then a door opened on the new SUV, and a figure stepped out as if he’d been carved from the white light itself.Soren’s whole body went rigid. A stray bolt of cold seemed to run down his spine. Air hitched in his throat and the world condensed until only one shape existed in it: the silhouette in the light. When the figure finally crossed into the illumination and his features resolved,

The alley froze in an instant, as though even time itself bowed to the weight of the presence that had just arrived. The rain, which had been falling in steady sheets, suddenly seemed deafening, every droplet exploding against the cobblestones with violent insistence. Shadows curled in the dim light cast by the flickering streetlamp overhead, painting the scene in shades of menace.Out of those shadows stepped the cloaked stranger. His boots sank into shallow puddles, each step deliberate, slow, unhurried—as if he knew he didn’t need to rush to command the space. His coat hung heavy and rain-soaked, the hood pulled forward, concealing much of his face. Yet the voice that cut through the chaos was undeniable. Low. Steady. Carrying a weight that no one dared ignore.“That’s enough.”The words rang like steel drawn from a scabbard. Calm, but sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air. Even the thugs—men who had moments ago been nothing but snarling hounds—shifted uneasily, thei

The rain did not simply fall—it punished. It came down in sheets so heavy the world blurred, every droplet striking skin like shards of ice, carving trails down their faces until it was impossible to tell where tears ended and water began. The alley seemed alive, breathing with them, suffocating in its own shadows as if the walls themselves were waiting to close in. Every heartbeat stretched impossibly long, every second dragging like a lifetime beneath the hammering sky.Soren’s words still hung between them, echoing over and over in the thunder of his own chest—let me walk away. But no one answered. The silence that followed was unbearable, louder than gunfire, louder than the storm, a silence so cruel it rang inside his bones.Travian stood as though nailed to the spot. His chest heaved violently, each breath a knife against his ribs. He wanted to speak, to reach out, to fix something already shattered beyond repair. His hand rose shakily, bloody fingers stretching toward Soren’s f

The rain had faded into silence, leaving behind the soft hum of night. The air still carried the damp scent of the storm, clinging to the wooden walls and drifting through the half-open window. In the small room above the clinic, the world outside felt far away—distant, unreal—as though only this fragile space existed. The faint glow of the lantern threw golden shadows across the room, painting their shapes on the walls like memories too sacred to touch.Soren sat curled against the window, knees pulled to his chest, his cheek resting against the cold glass. He traced the slow journey of raindrops as they slid down, but his eyes were never truly on the storm. They were on Travian. Always on Travian.Travian leaned against the doorframe, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages that peeked through his loose shirt. Bruises blossomed like angry flowers across his skin, reminders of battles that had nearly stolen him away. His breathi