Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed By My Stepbrother : Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

The waffle iron hissed like it had a grudge, steam puffing up from the sides like a little dragon exhaling. I stood there like a zombie, staring at it with dead eyes, spatula in one hand, the other braced on the edge of the kitchen counter. Here I was. Making fucking waffles. Because apparently trauma turns me into a homemaker. The kitchen was too quiet, except for the faint sizzle of batter cooking and the hum of the fridge. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows like it didn’t give a damn about the massacre that happened here just hours ago. The scent of vanilla and butter was weirdly comforting, almost like a trick my brain was pulling to make me forget. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget. I mean, it’s kind of hard to forget when your stepbrother-slash-psychotic-werewolf-mate murders a bunch of intruders and then smears blood on your face like he’s tucking you in for a nap. The waffle iron beeped. I blinked. Right. Waffles. I opened the lid and the golden

The sound of the doorbell—or whatever the hell that ancient ding was supposed to be—ripped through the stillness of the mansion like a knife through already-thin nerves. My body tensed up so hard I probably looked like someone had poured a bucket of ice water down my back. Every part of me screamed danger, even though logically, it could’ve just been a damn delivery guy or something. But nothing about my life lately had been logical, and my gut wasn’t exactly in the mood to pretend. I didn’t move. Not immediately. Then I felt it—Ethan’s hand on my shoulder. Warm. Solid. Heavy in that way that made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in this horror show of a life. I hadn’t even realized I was shaking until his fingers tightened gently, like a quiet “I got you.” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His touch lingered for just a second more, then left me. And… okay. I hated how fast that warmth disappeared. Like the second he stepped away, I could feel cold wind whip i

“Camila, why are you getting attracted to him?” I mumbled under my breath, scrunching my face in frustration as I dragged my fingers through my hair. “Are you insane?” I plopped myself down onto the grass, the blades cool against my legs through the fabric of my sweats. My hoodie was bunched around my hips, my heart still racing from the whole… incident. My hand still tingled like it remembered exactly where it had been. “He’s crazy,” I hissed, flicking a piece of grass off my leg. “He’s literally crazy, Camila. And let’s not forget—he’s your goddamn stepbrother.” I flopped backward onto the ground with a groan, staring up at the too-blue sky, the sun mocking me with how normal it was. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. The air smelled like wet grass and leaves. The world had no idea it was falling apart—my world was falling apart—and it just kept on spinning like everything was fine. “Guess his craziness is rubbing off on me,” I muttered, one arm thrown over my eyes.

“I think I’m drunk,” I slurred, letting my head roll a little too comfortably against Ethan’s shoulder. He chuckled, a low hum that vibrated against my ear. “Hmm?” I pulled back just slightly, squinting up at him like I could glare the amusement right off his face. “Don’t ‘hmm?’ me. You know what you did.” “Me?” He raised his brows, grinning like an idiot. “You’re the one who took the bottle and said ‘fuck it.’” I huffed, pouting a little as I pushed at his chest half-heartedly. “You offered. That’s enabling.” He caught my wrist mid-push, his fingers curling gently around it. Not tight, just firm enough that I felt the weight of it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to say no.” God, that smile. That calm, confident, I-know-exactly-how-much-I-affect-you smile. I wanted to smack it off his face. And maybe kiss him. Wait. No. No, no, no. I pulled my hand back quickly, like touching him had triggered some kind of electric shock. My skin was hot. My face even hotter. M

The door clicked softly shut behind me as I stepped out of the room, but not before grabbing the bottle from my desk — the one half-drained from earlier, the amber liquid still clinging to the glass like a stubborn vice. I took a long pull from it as I padded barefoot down the hallway, the warmth crawling down my throat and settling into my chest like something close to calm. I pushed open the front door and stepped out into the night. The air was still, heavy with spring rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and the moon lit up the yard like a ghostlight. I took another swig, slower this time, letting the burn remind me I was still breathing. I didn’t want them to wake her. Not tonight. Not after she finally let her walls down and fell asleep in my bed like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t afraid of me. God, she looked so perfect lying there — hair messy against my pillow, mouth slightly parted. My sheets drowning her frame like it was made to cling to her instead of me. Every se