All Chapters of HER REVENGE : Chapter 31 - Chapter 37

He moved like he belonged to the night—the kind of step that carved a path through dark and made it bend to him. I watched him from under the awning as he crossed the street, collar up, breath visible in short puffs. There was a hunger in his stride that had nothing to do with hunger; it was entitlement wrapped in muscle. Barry was a storm you could read the weather for: inevitable, loud, and dangerous if you stood in the wrong place.I should have left when I had the chance. I should have listened to the small, sensible voice that whispered run until it was hoarse. But I had stayed because his hands knew how to hold me steady, because the couch had felt like a shelter instead of a cell, because even in the small daylight of a borrowed morning I’d finally felt the ridiculous, fragile thing called hope.Now the hope tasted like iron.“I’ll be right back,” I told him the second my phone vibrated with Barry’s name—like a hot coal pressed into my palm. I watched him, kneeling on the rug w

The sunlight had already found us by the time I rolled out of bed. It streamed through Dante’s thin curtains in wide golden slants, spilling across the floor and warming my bare feet as I padded toward the small kitchen. The townhouse was quiet - for someone like me, who was used to noise being a threat. But here, silence didn’t feel like a cage. I found Dante half-awake at the counter, fussing with the coffee maker like it had offended him. His dark hair was still mussed, his T-shirt wrinkled, and yet somehow he looked unfairly good.“Morning, menace,” he said when he noticed me, voice low with sleep. “Coffee’s taking its sweet time.”I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “That’s because you’re glaring at it. Machines don’t like intimidation.”“Good thing you do,” he shot back, smirking.I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips. These little exchanges felt like air after being underwater. The kettle clicked, and he poured water into two mismatched m

The sound of my name through the door hollowed me out. My body went rigid, my skin buzzing with cold. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I could only hear him—Barry—his voice thick with possession, curling around me like chains I thought I’d broken.Dante’s shoulders squared. His hand gripped the edge of the doorframe, knuckles white. He didn’t open it. “You’re not welcome here,” he called, voice steady as stone.A chuckle slid through the wood. “Funny. I don’t remember asking your permission.”My stomach lurched. It was him. No doubt, no mistake. The years I’d spent memorizing that sound—a serpent wearing human skin—came roaring back. I gripped the edge of the table, nails biting into the wood.“Alina.” His voice softened now, coaxing, dangerous in its familiarity. “Sweetheart, I know you can hear me. You’re scared, aren’t you? Don’t be. Just open the door and come home.”My throat closed. The old reflex flared—I almost rose, almost obeyed, almost went back to the role he’d carved

The glow of my phone lit the dark room, pale blue against trembling hands. My breath stuck somewhere between my chest and throat as I stared at the words.You can hide behind him all you want, Alina. But in the end, you’ll crawl back. You always do.And beneath it, the second message, colder, sharper.Check the window.The air left my lungs in a rush. My fingers almost dropped the phone, the weight of those words heavier than the device itself. He was here. Watching. Maybe close enough to see my every twitch.My body locked. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. It felt like if I so much as breathed too loudly, I’d give him the satisfaction of my panic.“Alina?” Dante’s voice sliced through the silence. Low. Alert. Awake in an instant, like he’d never really been asleep.I turned slowly, the phone still clutched in my hand, glowing like a secret I didn’t want to hold. He was already on his feet, eyes sharp, body coiled in that way he had when danger brushed the edges of the room.“What is it?”I c