All Chapters of THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Chapter 81JaceShe’s burning. Not from anger this time—her skin is hot, damp with fever, her breaths uneven.The candlelight paints her pale face in shadows, and for once, she’s not pushing me away. She’s too weak to.I wring out the cloth in cold water, pressing it gently to her forehead. She stirs, eyelids fluttering, but doesn’t wake.“Stay still, sweetheart,” I murmur, even though she probably can’t hear me.Her foot—still bandaged from the last time she tried to run—rests over my thigh. I check the dressing, making sure no fresh blood seeps through. She winces in her sleep, and my hand instinctively smooths over her calf.I should’ve left the room hours ago, but the thought of her waking up alone—frightened, in pain—makes something inside me tighten. So I stay.Pulling the blanket higher over her shoulders, I lie down beside her, careful not to jostle her injury. The distance between us is a thin line of air, but even that feels like too much.Her breathing slows, steadier now.

Chapter 83RickMorocco’s streets at night are never silent—but tonight, the noise is wrong.The comm in my ear is alive with footsteps, quick breaths, and Jaxon muttering under his breath as he and Jace track the bodyguard. My laptop glows in the dim hotel room, multiple camera feeds running like veins across the city.“Target’s in the alley east of you,” I guide them. “Looks empty. No eyes except you three.”Then—movement.Figures slipping in from both ends of the alley, cutting them off. My stomach drops.“Jace, you’re boxed.”They don’t draw guns. That’s what’s strange. Instead, they close in with fists, steel pipes, batons—blunt force instead of bullets. I realize why: a gunshot in Morocco’s tourist quarter would bring police swarming in seconds. Bishop’s crew wants this quiet. Clean. Untraceable.The audio in my comm explodes—grunts, curses, the sick thud of punches. I see Jace duck and swing, Jaxon drop one guy with a hook to the jaw. The feed shakes from the motion of the CCTV

Chapter 85JewelThe moment I step inside the safehouse, the smell of blood hits me, sharp and suffocating. My eyes lock on him—Jaxon—lying still on the floor, impossibly quiet.“No… no, no, no!” I stumble forward, hands trembling, but Jace’s hand catches my wrist, firm and steady.“Stay,” he says, voice low but commanding. His eyes never leave Jaxon, but there’s something raw in them—grief, fury, something unrelenting.I shake my head, voice barely audible. “It’s… it’s my fault.”Jace glances at me, startled. “What?”Tears stream down my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have—” My words catch in my throat. “I shouldn’t have been there, not like that. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t drawn attention…”Jace kneels beside Jaxon, pressing his hands to the wound, his jaw tight. “Jewel, no—”I cut him off, voice breaking. “It’s my fault he’s gone! He… he wanted to tell me something and now he’s gone because I didn’t… because I didn’t see it coming, because I didn’t—”My hands clench at my che

Chapter 87Jewel The world is plain grey. No, not my surname—the color. Everywhere I look, everything I touch, even the air I breathe feels like ash.I don’t feel like living anymore.My best friend is gone. My denial, my platonic soulmate. The one person who had always understood the parts of me I didn’t even say out loud. And now… he’s nothing. Just a memory, a ghost stitched into the edges of my heart.I sit on the floor of the safehouse, knees pressed to my chest, staring at nothing. The walls, the ceiling, the faint glow of the laptop—they all blur together. Life feels muted, drained of color.I remember him—the way he laughed, always too loud, too brash. The way he teased me mercilessly, like he knew my weaknesses before I did. The stupid, reckless things we did together, the secrets we shared… all gone.If only I had told him I loved him.If only I had listened to my instincts.If only I hadn’t gone to Morocco like I did, inviting danger I couldn’t control.I close my eyes and

Chapter 89Jewel The room feels smaller than ever, walls closing in with the weight of grief and guilt. Days have passed since Jaxon’s burial, and I haven’t moved from my corner. But today… today something shifts.I don’t know what pushes me, maybe it’s the sound of Jace moving through the streets outside, or the faint hope that he’s making things right. Slowly, I rise to my feet, legs shaky, chest tight.I move to the window, peering out at the city. The streets are quiet, eerily so. I can feel the tension lingering in the air, the aftermath of Jace’s strikes. Fear and grief grip me, but so does something else—a tiny spark of determination.“I can’t stay like this forever,” I whisper to myself. “I have to… I have to survive. For him. For Jaxon.”I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, steadying myself against the tremor that threatens to collapse me. Slowly, I open the door, stepping into the hallway. Every step feels heavy, weighted with guilt and fear, but I move forward a