All Chapters of THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Chapter 51 Unknown POV He watched from the shadows, unseen but always present—an invisible thread weaving through the chaos of the Bishop-Grey-Chevre dilemma. The names echoed through his mind like a coded mantra: Bishop. Grey. Chevre. Power. Betrayal. Bloodlines tangled beyond reckoning. But it wasn’t the surface wars that gripped him. No—he was after something buried deeper. Jace Grey. Who was he, really? To the world, a Grey through and through—claimed, raised, and hardened by Dominic Grey himself. But that was too neat a story. Too tidy a lie. He sifted through whispers, old documents, fragmented testimonies. The threads were faint, but they pulled toward a root no one dared speak aloud. Why was Jace taken in so easily? Why was he molded into the perfect heir, the unshakable son? What secret lay beneath th

Chapter 53 Ingrid Before I could react, his hand shot out—snatching my wrist in a firm, unyielding grip. He guided me down, slow but deliberate, until my palm pressed against the thick heat straining beneath his jeans. Our eyes never broke. Not once. The sound he made—low, deep, almost feral—rumbled in his chest as he held my gaze. Then, with a sharp pull, he yanked me higher on his lap, the cramped driver’s seat suddenly feeling like the center of the world. “Touch it like you own me, Jewel,” he demanded, voice edged with command and hunger. I didn’t hesitate. My fingers moved over him—harder, faster—feeding off the way his jaw clenched, the way his breath stuttered. The power shifted with every stroke, and I could feel him shaking beneath me, his control unraveling under my touch. The rain pounded harder, but it was

Chapter 55 Rick We head upstairs, the sound hits us first—moaning, skin meeting skin, the unmistakable rhythm of two people lost in each other. Slaps. Ragged gasps. The walls carry it like an open confession. Jaxon grins, shaking his head. “They can’t even wait for a room,” he mutters, half amused, half impressed. I ignore the heat curling in the air between those sounds and instead mutter, “Coffee?” He smirks, nodding. “Yeah. Post-rain makes it taste better.” We make our way to the balcony, the air cool and sharp from the earlier downpour. Below us, this new country hums with life—different languages, faces, and rhythms all blending into something unpredictable. I admire the mix, the sheer diversity of it. For a second, I let myself believe that maybe we’ll have a strong enough foothold here for the Prison Break operation. This place could be our edge, if we play it right.

Chapter 57 Jace She’s on her knees before I even realize what she’s planning. That look — the one that says she’s about to wreck me — slides over her face like sin wrapped in silk. “Ingrid—” I start, but it dies in my throat when her hands find my belt. Slow. Calculated. Like she wants me to feel every second of the wait. “Jewel,” she says suddenly, her voice low but sharp, like a reminder I didn’t know I needed. My brows pull in. “What?” “My name,” she repeats, glancing up at me while her hand wraps around me with slow, taunting pressure. “Not Ingrid. Jewel.” The way she says it—it’s not just a correction. It’s a claim. Like she’s daring me to forget it again. It sticks in my head as her lips wrap around me, hot and slick, the sound of her breath merging with the

Chapter 59 Ingrid The air is too thick to breathe. Not from the cigar smoke swirling above the table, not from the low hum of conversation— But from him. Jace doesn’t look away from me, not even when one of the older men clears his throat, waiting for his attention. His fingers are still moving, slower now, crueler, every stroke deliberate. I grip his forearm under the table, nails biting into his skin. “Stop,” I mouth again, this time with no sound. He smirks like I just told him the opposite. The men around the table continue their talk—oil shipments, land rights, money trails—but I can’t hear a damn word. My pulse is pounding so hard in my ears it’s all I can register. Rick is still on the far side of the table, jaw tight, pretending to focus on the discussion but his eyes keep darting to me. He’s n