All Chapters of His Bride By Force: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

KILLIAN Nothing could have prepared me for the sound of the familiar voice that I’d just heard. Matteo. This was definitely not how I’d imagined that we would meet again. An extra ice bucket of humiliation crashed over me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Kill me now.“Matteo?" I heard Arabella say at the door. Then, the door creaked open.They were arguing about something now, but my mind was warping into something unpleasant and unstable. I could barely understand them.But if Matteo knew exactly where I was. It had to mean that he was in on it with Arabella. Fury simmered inside of me, and the urge to commit murder gripped me. The anger was so intense, it sharpened my mind and vision.And the moment I heard approaching footsteps, I pushed against the restraints until I felt something snap. There was a wet, sickening pop that indicated that my left wrist had been dislocated. Fire raced through my arm, the agony nauseating.But I didn't stop.I gritted my teeth and reached out for t

KILLIAN Arabella’s screams were muffled beneath the pillow, her limbs flailing as I pressed down with all the strength I had left. My body trembled, the fever clawing through my muscles and bones.I wanted her dead.I needed her gone.But my arms were too weak. My chest heaved, my heart jackhammering behind my ribs. The fever was winning. Therefore, I collapsed beside her, barely breathing.My hands shook violently as I clawed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around myself. My skin was soaked, clammy, and hot. I couldn't stop shivering, and I couldn't see straight either.But I had to move. I needed to stay alive long enough to make it out.The table of weapons loomed just within reach, but my double vision wasn’t helping. My bare feet dragged across the floor, my knees buckling. I gripped the table just in time to hold myself up, my eyes landing on the sledgehammer.I wrapped my fingers around the handle with my good hand even as my body swayed. Panting, I leaned against

SERA The fever finally broke last night. After five days of restless, sweat-soaked nights and half-conscious mumbling... after the tremors, the hallucinations, the fever dreams that left him clawing at his sheets...He was finally deeply asleep.I sat curled in the corner of the room, my arms wrapped tight around my knees as I stared at his face in the dim golden morning light. His breathing was steady. There were no more shudders or flinches.But I didn't feel relief just yet.Because last night... just before the fever broke... he'd said something I couldn't unhear."She was on top of me...""I couldn't stop her.""I didn't want it...please—"The sound of his voice had gutted me.I pressed a fist to my mouth now, the memory replaying itself in my head. Tears blurred my vision, my body curling tighter into itself.I told myself I'd misheard, but those words hadn't been vague. Rage had sunk into me then. And I'd fantasized about finding Arabella, cutting her apart slowly until all

KILLIAN Her eyes widened, but she didn't speak. I could tell that she was drowning under her doubts. Arabella had done what she always does. She'd sown poison and watched it bloom. But it wasn't her venom that I cared about.It's what I saw on Sera's face.Guilt. Fear. And doubt."Come with me," I told her softly.She hesitated, and I saw the war flash in her eyes. I didn't wait for her to decide. I walked to the closet, grabbed a shirt, and pulled it over my head with hands that were still stiff and aching. My body screamed with every movement, still healing from the drugs, the beatings, and the restraints that Arabella and Matteo used.But this pain was nothing compared to the one roaring in my chest.Sera followed me without a word, her face pale.Roman was already waiting outside the door, straightening when he saw me fully dressed."She's still in the East Wing chamber. Matteo's in Interrogation Three," he reported. "Guard rotation's been doubled."I nodded once.Rafael was

RAFAEL Honestly? I knew something was off the moment the Beyoncé track skipped.Call it intuition, call it gay witchcraft, or whatever. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and then the SUV slammed into my side so hard I saw stars, and my Starbucks flew into the backseat along with my phone.The second hit followed as if it had been choreographed. My head whipped forward, the airbag exploding in my face. My seatbelt dug into my collarbone, and all I could think was, ‘Oh great, I'm going to die in the ugliest intersection in the city. Fabulous.’That’s when I heard the gunshot.My breath caught as white-hot pain bloomed through my chest. It was too high for a lung hit but still deep. Clavicle, maybe the deltoid insertion? I was already assessing myself mid-panic like a true overachieving trauma doctor.They shot me. The bitches actually shot me.I cursed aloud, clutching the wound, hot blood seeping through my shirt. And to make it worse, I was wearing white."Not the Prada,