All Chapters of THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Chapter 61 JaceThe air smelled of iron and gun oil.Inside the dimly lit safehouse, the men moved like shadows—packing gear, loading weapons, and checking comms. Jaxon was at the far end of the table, hunched over the blueprints of the prison, fingers tracing the escape route for the tenth time tonight.“Timing is everything,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp. “If the floodlights catch us before we hit the outer fence, we’re dead.”Rick was in the corner, assembling the last of the rifles. The rhythmic click, snap of his hands locking pieces together filled the silence between orders. Outside, I could hear the low hum of the vans waiting in the alley, engines ready, drivers smoking their last cigarettes before the strike.“Guards rotate at 22:15,” Jaxon said, not looking up. “We go in three minutes before. Lights out, front gate jammed, west wall breach. We grab him and we’re ghosts before anyone kn

Chapter 63JaceThe ride back was a blur. My head still couldn’t keep up with the sight of him—Dominic Grey—alive, breathing, steering the wheel like he’d never been gone. Years of absence condensed into a single, impossible reality sitting right in front of me.He knew the road like the back of his hand, taking turns before we even saw them. This was Morocco—his turf. The mansion we’d been living in? His. Every alley, every checkpoint, every shadow—we were moving through his map.I didn’t speak until the mansion’s iron gates swung open. My throat felt like it’d been carrying lead.“I miss you,” I finally said, the words scraping out raw.His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel. He didn’t look at me right away—maybe afraid of what he’d see—but then he pulled over and turned, eyes as sharp and alive as I remembered.“I’m glad to have you back, Dad.”The hug was instinct, not thought. Years of resentment, grief, and questions

Chapter 65JaceThe whole day, it’s like watching another life—a life I’ll never touch, but one I can’t stop staring at.Dominic had shown up early, no guards, no formal air, just a father with his daughter. And Jewel… she lit up in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. Not the cautious smile she gives me when she’s still figuring out how to forgive, not the polite curve of her lips she saves for strangers—no, this was soft, unguarded.They drove out to the mountains, and I followed at a distance, not intruding. From where I stood, I could see her pointing out shapes in the clouds, Dominic laughing quietly beside her. He wasn’t the cold strategist or the man with too much weight in his eyes—he was just Dad.Later, he took her to the arcade. She was competitive, firing off at the basketball hoop machine until her hair fell into her face, and he just stood there, grinning like she was his whole world. When she ran out of tokens, he fed the machine without a second thought, just so her joy

Chapter 67Ingrid Morocco at night had a strange pulse—alive, but with shadows that seemed to breathe.I kept walking, the streets narrowing into alleys lined with old brick and peeling paint. A stray cat darted past me, vanishing into the dark.It was then I heard it.Footsteps.Not hurried, not slow—just steady, matching mine.I glanced back. A man lingered a few paces behind, his face hidden beneath a hood. My stomach tightened.I quickened my pace. So did he.The hum of the night seemed to fade, replaced by the sound of my own heartbeat. My sandals scraped faster against the stone. The air was thick, my pulse climbing higher with every step.The alley opened up, spilling me into a small market street where only a few stalls remained open. I tried to blend with the thin crowd, but when I dared a glance back—he was still there. Closer.Panic surged. I pushed through two people, weaving between a stack of crates, almost tripping on a loose plank. My breathing turned shallow. My legs

Chapter 69JaceShe’s quick.Quicker than I thought.By the time I realize she’s walking out, she’s already halfway down the corridor. I push past the ache in my chest and follow, my steps heavy against the marble.“Jewel—”She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t slow.I catch her just before the front doors, my hand closing around her wrist—not hard, just enough to make her stop. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes tight with something between anger and hurt.“I’m sorry,” I say. The words come out rough, but not because I don’t mean them—because I do. Too much. “For earlier. For everything.”Her lips press together, as if she’s holding back more than words.“I didn’t mean to—” I stop myself. Excuses are useless here. She deserves more than that. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I just… I lose my grip with you sometimes. And that’s on me.”Something flickers in her gaze—surprise, maybe, or the smallest crack in the wall she’s built.“I know you were only trying to protect me,” she murmurs a