Lahat ng Kabanata ng Tangled With The Other Brother: Kabanata 281 - Kabanata 290

Elena's Pont Of View"Yes, I am gullible! I am completely stupid for believing a single word that came out of her mouth!" The words tore from my chest, raw and jagged, slicing through the heavy drone of the jet's engine. My voice fractured under the weight of it all, hot tears finally spilling over and carving slow, burning paths down my bruised cheeks. Each breath felt like swallowing glass. I leaned forward against the biting pressure of the zip-ties, my glare cutting into Graham's pristine, aristocratic face. Even now, even here, he looked immaculate… not a hair out of place, his suit pressed to perfection. The sight of his composure made my rage burn hotter, a white-hot fury that threatened to consume me from the inside out. "But you will never understand it," I said, shaking my head as my lips twisted into a bitter, trembling line. The words came out thick with emotion, each syllable weighted with years of buried pain. "No one would ever understand it unless they were forced to

Jaxx's Point Of View"What the fuck is going on?" I roared into the empty room, my chair slamming back against the glass window as I surged to my feet. The absolute fury coursing through my blood turned the world entirely red, my vision narrowing to a single, terrible point of focus. The tracking chip I had secretly embedded into Elena's hair was screaming at me from thirty thousand feet in the air. Thirty thousand feet. She was on a plane… a plane I hadn't authorized, hadn't arranged, hadn't even known about. My mind flashed violently back to just last night, when she'd told me she was going to see her mother at that rundown hospital. She had looked at me with those wide, haunted eyes, trying to defend the indefensible, wanting so desperately to give that wicked woman the benefit of the doubt. I had seen the fragile hope fracturing her usual stubbornness, watched her armor crack just enough to let that poisonous vulnerability seep through, and it had made my chest ache with a prot

Heather's Point Of ViewThe steering wheel felt cool beneath my palms as I navigated the evening traffic, neon dashboard lights casting a soft glow against the windshield. I had just pulled up outside Dave's off-campus apartment building after his final economics lecture wrapped up. Being the middle sibling meant serving as the designated glue of this family, always floating between Elena's heavy world and Dave's university bubble… a role I'd never asked for but had grown to accept. Sometimes I wondered if they even realized how much energy it took, constantly translating between their two very different realities. I jangled the spare keys he'd given me, unlocked his apartment door, and walked right in. The place smelled exactly like a typical nineteen-year-old guy's room… laundry, body spray, and instant ramen. The familiar scent actually brought a small smile to my face; at least some things in our chaotic lives remained predictable. I tossed my purse onto the counter and dropped

A/N: I am so sorry for not posting for some days, guys! I’ve been dealing with some heavy writer's block, but I'm back now. Thank you for your endless patience!Heather's Point Of View"What?!" I gasped, my voice cracking violently in the silent, vaulted hallway. "What do you mean she's not back yet?!"Maria’s head dropped even lower, her gaze gluing itself to the tips of her clean black shoes. She took a step back, her fingers twisting and pulling at the fabric of her white apron as if she were trying to shred it. I could hear the rapid, shallow sound of her breathing."Maria, talk to me," I pleaded, my voice losing its sharp edge and cracking open with a sudden, spiking dread. I walked over to her quickly, my heels clicking loudly against the cold marble, and reached out to hold her shoulders gently. The poor woman was literally trembling under my touch. "Hey, it's okay. Just tell me what you know. Please. Did she call? Did anyone call?""Miss Heather..." Maria whispered, her voice

Elena's Point Of ViewMy eyelids felt as though someone had cemented them shut. I groaned, a low, pathetic sound scraping past my parched throat as I forced my eyes to crack open. Instantly, a white-hot spike of pain shot directly behind my temples, making my vision blur and swim. My head pounded so violently I could actually hear the rhythmic, dull thud of my own pulse drumming in my ears. The lingering, nauseating taste of that sweet chemical gas clung to the roof of my mouth like a film I couldn't swallow away. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? A day? The disorientation made it impossible to tell. I tried to lift my arm to rub my face, but my limbs felt like lead weights, barely responding to my brain's panicked commands. Every muscle in my body protested the simple movement. I forced myself to blink through the haze, waiting for the spinning room to finally tilt back into place, praying the nausea would subside before I embarrassed myself. This wasn't the private jet. T