All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Captive Bride: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The man in the hood stood ahead, his gun glinting with cold intent, while the SUV’s engine growled closer, boxing me in. My breath hitched, my heart hammering in my ears. I was trapped, no knife, no car, just a little over sixty bucks.“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking but sharp, trying to buy time. My eyes darted, searching for any escape.The man’s lips curled, his voice low and mocking. “You’re Lynx, aren’t you? Ghost Clan’s got a nice price on your head. Thought you’d be harder to catch.”“I’m nobody,” I snapped, my fingers tightening around the pendant. “You’ve got the wrong person.”He laughed, a dry, grating sound. “Wrong person?”My blood ran cold. “Back off.” I said, stepping back, my boots scraping the pavement.“Big words for a cornered rat,” he sneered, raising his gun. “Last chance, girl.”I spotted it then—a narrow gap between the crumbling buildings to my right, barely wide enough to slip through. My body moved before my mind caught up, and I bolted, scraping

“Lena,” Leo said, his voice low, clipped. “Sit.”I sank into the velvet chair, my hands gripping the arms, bracing for whatever came next. “What’s this about?” I asked, my tone cautious but firm. I was done shrinking.He leaned forward, his gaze piercing, like he could see every secret I’d ever buried. “You ran,” he said, his voice edged with something raw—anger, maybe, or something deeper. “You trusted Nicole, took her bait, and nearly got yourself killed. I need to know you’re not going to do it again.”My stomach dropped, but I held his gaze. “I didn’t mean to—”“Intentions don’t matter,” he cut me off, his voice sharp but not cruel.“Intentions don’t matter,” he cut me off, his voice sharp but not cruel. “You put yourself in her hands, Lena. Nicole’s not some Good Samaritan. She’s a blade, and you’re the one she wants to cut me with. I need to know you’re done playing her game.”I swallowed, my throat dry. “I didn’t know who she was,” I said, my voice steady despite the guilt claw

I woke to grey skies and the faint echo of thunder in the distance.The rain hadn't stopped. It just fell slower now, like the world was exhaling after a tantrum. But my chest still felt tight — too tight.Leo’s words still clung to me, sharp and haunting: “I’d feel better if I knew what broke you.” His voice had been a blade, not cruel but searching, cutting too close to the scars I’d buried deep.He didn’t just want answers—he wanted to see me, the real me, and that scared me more than any locked door or loaded gun.“I want to see how long it takes before you stop pretending you hate being mine.” I should’ve screamed. Should’ve said never.But I just stood there like an idiot. Frozen, confused and curious.I stayed in bed long after sunrise, staring at the ceiling, trying not to wonder where Leo had gone after our conversation. Or when he’d return. Or what mood he’d be in when he did.I finally peeled myself from the bed and moved to the window. My hair was quite matted from yesterd

I followed him back to the car, still brushing stray flour from my sleeves, my mind racing. Why had he brought me here? What deal had he just sealed? The questions burned, but his silence told me I wouldn’t get answers—not yet.I tried to speak. Then stopped.His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.After twenty minutes of silence, I finally said, “You didn’t bring me there just for a deal.”He said nothing.“Then why?”Still nothing.We drove longer than expected. Too long. Too far.Then I saw it.My heart dropped.“Leo…”He parked near the curb. My old street. My old house.My blood ran cold.I stared at the chipped paint, the rotting fence. I could already hear the yelling. Feel the belt.I couldn’t move.“Come,” Leo said, already opening his door.“Why are we here?”“Closure.”My stomach twisted.The door was unlocked. Inside, the air smelled like beer, mildew, and memories I didn’t want.Every room was messier than I remembered. Dirtier. Smaller.The smell. The stains on th

The only sound was the clink of silverware against porcelain and the occasional shift of a chair.I was halfway through a piece of toast I didn’t want when I felt his gaze again.Leo sat across the table, sipping his black coffee like it didn’t taste like burnt ash. His eyes were on the tablet in front of him, but I wasn’t fooled.He hadn’t said a word to me.That made two of us.“You’re quieter than usual,” he finally said.“I didn’t realize silence came in levels.”He looked up at that, sharply. “Yours does.”I took another bite, chewing slowly. “Maybe you just got used to the sound of me defending myself.”“I got used to the sound of you fighting.”My eyes flicked to his. “And now that I’m not?”“You’re retreating. There’s a difference.”I didn’t answer.Because he wasn’t wrong.I didn't even finish up my breakfast before leaving, going outside trying to breathe.What was he doing to me?I was lost in thoughts when I ran into David, he was trimming the roses. He was one of the youn