All Chapters of The Devil's Handmaiden : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Chapter 92 Lines in the SandDominique’s POVI didn’t sleep.Not that I usually did, but that night, sleep didn’t dare come near me. Not when Aurora’s scent still lingered on my bed. Not when her last words were a blade stuck between my ribs."You’re scared that if I stay, and this war touches me, you’ll finally lose control. You’ll have to admit you love me."I stared at the wall as if it could answer the question I refused to ask myself.Did I love her?Hell.Hell.I stood and yanked open the drawer near my bed. Inside was the file I had Julien compile over the years, names, faces, ghosts from the Peterson syndicate that had never been buried. I spread them across the desk. Some were crossed out. Some had question marks. One face, Marcos Valez stood out.A former lieutenant. Cold. Calculating. Missing since the Peterson raid.He was the second hand man of Victor Peterson, a man who's now more of a ghost than a human being. If someone was pulling strings from the shadows… it was

Chapter 94: Dark ConfrontationAurora’s POVI felt the weight of finality on my shoulders as I stepped out of the house. The wind brushed across my cheeks, and with each gust, it whispered that this would be the last time I played the weak one. The last time I would beg for justice. From now on, I would take it.I was dressed simply, but every inch of me felt armored with rage. Rage for my mother. Rage for the lies. Rage for everything Victor Peterson had done to my family.I grabbed my keys from the marble counter and turned sharply. Dominic, leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, narrowed his eyes.“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low and unreadable.I stared at him, heartbeat steady, expression colder than I intended. “To end something that’s long overdue.”He pushed off the wall. “You’re not going there alone.”“I don’t need backup.”“I’m not asking. I’m following.”I didn’t argue. Not because I welcomed his company—but because something inside me knew he neede

Chapter 96A kiss like a thief. Dominique’s POVI watched her from the hallway before I entered. Her shoulders were trembling slightly, her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. Aurora was a storm contained in a fragile frame, beautiful, dangerous, unraveling, yet so innocentDespite all the fire spewing out of her, I could still see that innocent little girl craving for closure from all the demons of her past. I didn’t need to ask to know what was tormenting her. Her confrontation with Peterson had shattered something deeper in her than words could reach, it had brought out her inner demon that lied deep rooted in her. I stepped into the room, quietly. She didn’t turn to look at me. Her body was rigid, her breathing sharp, like she was holding back tears or rage, or both.“Aurora,” I said softly.“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice hoarse. “Don’t you dare say my name like you care.”I didn’t flinch, even though her words were knives. I deserved that. Hell, I deserved worse. But

Chapter 98. The claws of truth. Adam's POV.The truth had claws.And it was digging into me, deep into my soul. Clawing away every emotion buried deep inside of me. Victor’s words still echoed in my skull like the ticking of a bomb, sharp and cold. "The woman you think is your mother... isn’t."That was it. That’s all he gave me. No elaboration. No comforting lies. Just that ragged shred of truth that splintered everything I knew about myself. And then he walked away like it wasn’t earth-shattering, like it wasn't a big thing. I sat in the library for hours after, unmoving, the dusty scent of old books pressing into my lungs, trying to calm the storm within me. I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell. I didn’t punch walls or curse the universe.I simply existed. Until that wasn’t enough anymore.I needed answers, more than what I knew. Or more than what I think I know. And this time around u won't take shàllow minded answers anymore. *****************I found Victor again in his office by

Chapter 100Secrets that burn. Tiffany’s POVThey said I was too much.Too loud. Too confident. Too spirited.Too… everything.As too much of everything is too much.Their words echoed in my head like glass shattering on marble floors, sharp and impossible to ignore. So I did the only thing that ever worked when the ache beneath my ribs threatened to consume me, I drank.The bottle of vodka felt colder than my heart. I poured glass after glass, like it would drown out the noise, like it would stitch back the parts of me that were crumbling. My fingers trembled as I reached for the bottle again, the bitter liquid burning its way down my throat. It hurt, and for a moment, I welcomed that kind of pain, because at least it was honest.The bar was empty. Just me, the dim light, and the alcohol. I wasn’t drunk. Not yet. But I was spiraling. Fast.The door creaked open, and I didn’t look up. I didn’t need anyone. Not sympathy. Not questions. Not…“Tiffany?”Peter’s voice cut through the si