Devil's Psychopathic Obsession のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

By the time they left the arena, Marcus and Scar were already in the ring, throwing punches and kicking each other’s arses. The crowd was on fire, screaming, cheering, betting, and throwing words into the smoky air. But Hunter wasn't settled as he drew her to her foot and started to leave.On that same floor, Hunter held Mirabella’s hand firmly and led her through what looked like an alley or a very long and very dark corridor. The crowd noise dimmed behind them the deeper they went. This time, Tobias followed, walking quietly in front as if leading the way. He didn’t say a word, his footsteps echoing against the walls. He looked like a shadow, moving fast and sure, as though he knew exactly where they were headed.Mirabella’s chest was already tight. The air here was heavier, colder, with a chill that sank into her skin. She squeezed Hunter’s hand, her eyes darting around the walls. Everything was so dark, so strange, and her nerves were stretched tight. The only illumination here we

“Oh my God, Mira. You have been going through all these? And you never thought it was necessary to let me know about everything? Do you even take me as someone important to you, because hell! If you did, you wouldn’t have shut me out this way,” Hilda’s voice shook as she finally dropped her hands from her lap and looked directly into Mirabella’s face. Mirabella sat stiffly on the small beige sofa in Hilda’s living room, her fingers twisting into each other nervously. She had just finished telling Hilda everything that had been happening with Hunter—the club, the control, the way he had taken over her entire life without her consent. Of course, she left out the part about what she had learned earlier that day; it simply didn’t feel right to tell Hilda about that just yet. Some things were just too heavy to unload in the same breath. The color on Hilda’s face had drained as Mira finished narrating everything. She shook her head in disbelief, her chest heaving with suppressed anger and

It was around 4:30 in the evening when Hunter came to pick her up.Mirabella was curled up on the living room sofa, half-interested in a random show flickering on the television. The sound of a car outside drew her attention. She got up from where she was sitting, curiosity prickling at her chest, and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain aside just slightly, her breath caught for the briefest second.A sleek white car had pulled up in front of Hilda’s house, the kind of car that screamed danger. And sure enough, it was Hunter.Her stomach did a little flip when she saw him step out of the car, tall, broad-shouldered, freshly dressed, and sensual in every movement as though the world belonged to only him. His dark shirt clung to his muscled body, the first few buttons were open just enough to tease the view of his chest. His hair was neatly styled, his jaw sharp. There was a frown on his face making him look dangerous. He must be very angry.She clenched her teeth and forced herse

Hunter spent long minutes fucking her, taking whatever she could give and pouring every part of himself into her. His thrusts were deep and heavy, each one carrying his hunger, his frustration, his obsession. The bed rocked beneath their bodies, their sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other. Mirabella’s hands clutched at the sheets, her back arched weakly, her voice hoarse from all the screaming she had done.When his orgasm was close, Hunter reached down between their joined bodies. His thick fingers found her clit, and he began stroking it with fast, rough precision.“No more, please…” she begged, her voice breaking as her body shuddered with overstimulation.“Shhh…” Hunter hushed her, his voice low and commanding. He looked down at her flushed face, her eyes glassy with tears and pleasure. “Look at me, baby.”Her heavy lids lifted slowly, and their eyes locked. His stare was intense, burning into her, stripping her down to nothing.“You’re coping just fine,” he murmured, his

“You have always thought I killed him. Haven’t you?” Hunter said as he walked out of the kitchen, his voice deep and steady, almost casual, though the weight of his words filled the air like smoke. He moved toward the wine cabinet in the living room, reaching for a bottle with deliberate calm. “So, why are you asking me this question again and again?”Mirabella was hot on his heel, her steps quick and unsteady as though she feared if she stopped following him, the truth would get lost forever. “I don’t think you killed him. Well… not entirely,” she said, her voice low but cutting. She hesitated before adding, “If I did think you killed my brother, I wouldn’t be here with you.”Hunter paused midway through pouring himself a glass of scotch. The amber liquid stilled inside the crystal as his dark eyes turned to her. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his lips twisted into something sharp. “Have you ever thought for once that you have a choice? Whether to leave me?” His words were