All Chapters of Claimed By My Stepbrother : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The drive felt like forever. I didn’t even realize when I’d fallen back asleep—maybe it was the last remnants of whatever he’d slipped in that damn mug—but by the time I cracked my eyes open again, the car was rolling to a stop. The soft crunch of gravel under the tires brought me out of the haze. I sat up slowly, my head still feeling foggy and a little too light. I blinked at the window, confused. Trees. Trees everywhere. Where the hell were we? “Where are we?” I croaked, my voice sounding like it’d been dragged through a blender. Ethan turned the engine off and looked over at me, that too-gentle smile on his face again—the kind that would’ve seemed sweet if I didn’t know better. “Safe,” he said simply. “At least for now.” I stared at him, then at the house—or maybe I should say cabin—sitting just ahead of us. It was tucked into a bunch of tall trees like some kind of nature getaway you’d see in a travel blog. A little too peaceful-looking. Small wooden porch, light st

I woke up with a groan, my throat dry and my body stiff. My back ached, my legs were half-asleep, and something soft and warm was under my cheek. Wait. The soft thing… moved. My eyes snapped open and I instantly squinted against the sunlight flooding in through the wide cabin windows. Warm morning light painted the wooden walls in golden hues, and the scent of pine mixed with something else… something familiar. Musk. Skin. Him. Oh, god. My head was resting on Ethan’s lap. I blinked hard, my mouth suddenly dry for an entirely different reason. I could feel the fabric of his sweatpants against my cheek. His body heat was strong, and his scent was almost overwhelming. And then I realized something even more disturbing. He was staring down at me. Just… watching me sleep. I tilted my head slowly, my face burning as I met his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, still heavy with sleep, but his mouth was curled in this small, lazy smile like I’d just made his entire week. “

The day passed in a weird, floaty haze. I’d spent most of the morning pretending to read a book, lying on my stomach across the bed that Ethan told me was mine now. The blanket still smelled like wood and detergent. I kept rereading the same damn paragraph, my brain foggy, not from exhaustion, but from overthinking. Every time I blinked, I remembered the way he groaned against my neck, and how I definitely, 100%, should not be blushing about that. But I was. God, I was. Eventually, I gave up on pretending I had my life together and reached for my phone. It was nearly dead, naturally, but still alive enough to buzz to life in my palm. The screen was a mess of missed notifications. But the ones that made my heart sting a little were from Tessa. Tessa: Camila, are you okay?? Why are you not picking my calls?? Girl, you're scaring me? Talk to me, please. I stared at the messages for a while, my chest getting tight. I should’ve replied. I wanted to reply. But what

ETHAN ~ She’s falling for me. God, those words hit different. She’s falling for me. I’d said it once. Whispered it into the quiet like it wasn’t the most dangerous thought I’d ever had. Then I said it again, under my breath this time, half in disbelief. "She’s falling for me." And then again. Each time, it got a little heavier, a little more unreal. Like the truth was too big to hold, too sweet to be real. My sweet little angel, with her pouty lips and oversized hoodie and the way she curled into my chest like I was home. She was falling for me. I was standing there in the middle of the room, grinning like a lunatic. Like a wolf who’d caught his hold on a prey he had been hunting for hundred of years. Then I said it one more time, because I was a sucker for punishment. “She’s falling for me.” But this time I laughed. Which part of the act did she even fall for? I asked myself that while I stood, slowly, savoring the thought like it was some forbidden tr

My head whipped in the direction of the sound, heart slamming against my ribs. I backed up. Slowly. Step by step until I was near the wall, far from the windows. My eyes didn’t leave the front door. Then I grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon—a mug. A freaking ceramic mug. Great. Real threatening. “Ethan?” I called again, louder this time. And that’s when the door opened. I nearly flung the mug. Nearly. But then— He stepped in. Ethan. But not the Ethan I knew. Not the one who smirked at me like he had the upper hand in every room. Not the one who whispered teasing things just to make me flustered. This Ethan—he looked like death had chewed him up and spit him back out. He was walking sluggishly, like every step cost him something. Blood trickled from several wounds on his torso, soaking through what was left of his shirt—if you could even call that thing hanging off his shoulder a shirt. His skin was streaked with crimson and dust, and there were lo