All Chapters of Claimed by My Husband and His Bestfriends : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The rain had been falling steadily since morning, creating a soft gray curtain outside the tall windows that wrapped around Beck’s office. It should have been calming, but instead, it only sharpened the tension already sitting heavy in the room.Beck was hunched over his workstation, his fingers dancing across the keys with a frantic energy that usually meant he was pulling threads that weren't meant to be found.Jared stood behind him, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the scrolling lines of text that mapped out the wreckage of a human life. Hayden remained on the sofa with Myla, his arm heavy and protective across her shoulders, anchoring her to him.Beck exhaled slowly through his nose. “Okay,” he muttered. “Here we go. I've finally been able to get into his juvie records," he said, his eyes still glued to his screen. “Edward Kowalsky before the military. That’s where the real mess starts.”Jared moved closer. “What did you get?”“Farther than they wanted anyone to,” Beck replied gri

“I should not be here.” Myla thought to herself as she walked down the dark alley.She tried to stop herself and turn back the way she had come, but it seemed like her will was as weak as her legs because they kept moving, carrying her deeper into the dark. The tall brick walls on either side of her felt like they were pressing too close, swallowing the pale strip of sky above. The farther she went, the darker it became, the shadows thickening until they felt heavy enough to touch.Then she heard footsteps behind her, causing her panic to spike through the roof as fear raised goosebumps all over her skin.They were slow at first. Sounding deliberate and measured, like someone was walking without hurry because they knew they did not need to rush.Myla’s breath caught, and she turned her head slightly, too scared to look back but unable to stop herself from wanting to listen harder. All of a sudden, her feet stopped moving. And immediately, the footsteps behind her stopped too. Her h

"Don't touch anything yet, B," Myla warned, her voice was firm but playful. " We are still waiting for Jay. Sit down."Beck smirked mischievously, enjoying the playful glint in her eyes that hadn't been there earlier that morning, as he still reached across the table. She stretched out her hand and lightly smacked Beck’s hand just as his fingers brushed the crust of a freshly baked loaf of sourdough in the bread basket."Ow!" Beck let out a dramatic wince, clutching his hand to his chest and pouting with exaggerated misery. "Myyyyy...." He whined childishly. "I’m wasting away, and my brain needs carbs to process the firewall encryption I’m running upstairs.""You’ll survive another five minutes," she countered, rolling her eyes as she adjusted a place mat. "We are eating together.”They were downstairs in the formal dining hall, the atmosphere light. The cook was just finishing serving the food, the steam from the roasted chicken and herbs filling the room with a sense of safety and

“Don't you think you’re aiming too far left?” The man asked in a condescending tone.Eddie didn’t bother to turn his head or lower the rifle either. “I’m compensating for the wind,” he said calmly, his voice low and certain. “You’re hearing it. I’m feeling it.”There was a pause behind him. Then a careful, placating chuckle. “Of course,” the man said. “You know this whole thing better than I do.”Edward exhaled slowly, steadying himself. It was still quite early in the morning and the weather was cold enough that his breath fogged in front of him. But he loved the cold,it sharpened his focus instead of dulling it. Here, his body remembered who he was. His steps were silent, his breathing even, and his hands sure. Even the rifle felt like an extension of his arm, familiar and obedient in the way weapons always were. He loved weapons. They never lied to him, never betrayed him, or pretended to love him while slipping away.The deer stepped into view between the trees, standing unawar

“Goodness,” Myla muttered under her breath as she stepped to the side to allow a policeman pass with a cuffed woman in a skimpy dress. “This place is so overstimulating. I can’t imagine the kind of migraine one would get staying in here all day.” The downtown precinct was a hive of controlled chaos. The air was thick with the smell of burnt coffee, old paper, and the sharp tang of floor wax. Telephones rang incessantly, and the low hum of voices formed a backdrop to the flickering fluorescent lights that gave everyone a sickly, sallow complexion. Detective Ben’s office sat at the far end of the corridor, cluttered but organized in the way only seasoned detectives managed. Case files were stacked neatly on one side of his desk. A notice board behind him was crowded with photographs, timelines, and handwritten notes connected by red string. A single desk lamp cast a yellow glow over everything, making the room feel small and more intimate than the rest of the station.Detective Carola