All Chapters of How To Love A Murderer.: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

145 Chapters

Then Hunting Ground.

Chapter Seventy-One: The Hunting Ground The apartment felt like a tomb. Dim, quiet, suffocating. Ian shoved the last of the plain, cheap clothes into his duffel bag, his hands trembling just a little. Just get out…get out and don’t look back. Living off cash, jumping at every shadow, terrified that using a credit card would light up some screen in front of Zhedya… it was eating him alive. He needed to vanish for good. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. An unknown number. His heart didn’t just skip a beat…it seized, cold and hard, in his chest. It had to be Zhedya . A new burner or anew game. He stared at it, the vibration humming against the wood, before snatching it up. “Hello?” His voice was tight, a thin attempt at control. The voice on the other end was wrong. Digitally warped, cold, like something speaking from the bottom of a well. “Ian Parker. If you want the truth about the monster you’re with, you need to see it for yourself.” “Who is this?” Ian demanded, his k

Approaching Solitude.

Chapter Seventy Two: Approaching Solitude The pain came first. A deep, hot sting in both thighs that dragged his mind kicking and screaming back to his body. Then the memories hit like a freight train. The chase to the gunshot..Zhedya’s face and the world going dark. Ian’s eyes flew open. He stared at a wooden ceiling he didn’t recognize, his heart hammering against his ribs. A slow, steady drip caught his eye. An IV line was taped to his forearm, a clear tube snaking up to a bag of fluid. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded his veins. The door creaked open. Zhedya walked in, calm as ever, carrying a small tray with a glass of water, pills, and a syringe. Instinct took over. Ian tried to shove himself up on his elbows, a desperate move to run, to fight, to do anything. But his body betrayed him. A white-hot lance of pain shot from his legs up his spine, stealing his breath and dropping him back onto the pillows with a choked gasp. “Get your hands off me!” Ian’s voice was a dry

My Religion.

Chapter Seventy Three: My Religion "I hate it here," Ian said flatly, his voice as dull as his eyes. He stared past the balcony railing to where the ocean met the sky in a cruel, endless line. "It's all stupid glass and I have to look at you, and this view, every single day. I feel like a sick fish in a bowl. A zoo exhibit." Zhedya didn't even blink. He just smiled that infuriating, gentle smile. "Do you? We can get another house, maybe? Or a little cabin buried in the snow? Just say the word, my love. I'll build it." Ian swallowed hard. He felt more awake today, his mind clawing through the usual drug-fog. That's why he had asked…no, demanded..to be wheeled out of the bedroom he was rotting in. He was sick of staring at the ceiling. Now he was just sick of staring at everything else. Zhedya turned and knelt right in front of the wheelchair, the movement too smooth, too possessive. He placed his hands on Ian's bandaged thighs, his touch light but trapping. "Please," Zhedya

A Familiar Voice.

Chapter Seventy Four: A Familiar Voice “I have some business in the city. The hospital needs its CEO to show his face and I’ll be gone a few days.”Zhedya placed his sketchbook and pencil on the bedside table. Another page filled with careful drawings of Ian asleep, Ian staring out the window, Ian’s profile. It was a creepy ritual, and Ian hated it.Ian didn’t even turn his head. He kept staring at the same patch of ocean he’d been staring at for what felt like years. “Whatever. I hate you are here, and I hate seeing you anyway. Don’t hurry back. Frankly, I hope your plane crashes.”Zhedya just chuckled, a soft, infuriating sound. “So mean to me, my love. I’ll miss you.” The bed dipped as he sat on the edge. “Since you’ve gotten stronger, I thought… I could sleep in here with you tonight. I could read to you. Something nice.”Ian finally looked at him. The casual possessiveness in Zhedya’s voice, the way he was already reaching for a book on the nightstand, lit a fuse inside him.

Betrayal and Bargain.

Chapter Seventy Five: Betrayal and Bargain Bodies tangled in the rumpled sheets, John flipped Elijah onto his back with a hungry grin, pinning his wrists above his head. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over their skin, but the heat between them was all their own…raw, urgent, chasing away the shadows of last night's worries. "John..." Elijah breathed, voice shaky, eyes wide but dark with want. His heart hammered, a mix of nerves and that pull he couldn't ignore, even after everything. John's body pressed down, hard and heavy, cock already stiff against Elijah's thigh. "Shh, just feel it," John whispered, lips brushing Elijah's ear before trailing hot kisses down his neck. He nipped at the pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, claiming. Elijah's hips bucked up involuntary, grinding against him, friction sparking fire low in his belly. John's free hand roamed, fingers teasing over Elijah's chest, pinching a nipple until it peb

If It Was Kindness.

Chapter Seventy Six: If It Was KindnessClink. Clink.The sound of Ian’s fork pushing peas around his plate was the loudest noise in the room. He wasn’t eating, he was just moving food from one side to the other, making a sad little mess.“Hurry and eat, baby,” Zhedya said, his voice a soft, sticky-sweet command. He scooped another serving of mashed potatoes onto Ian’s already full plate. “I wouldn’t have you waste away in front of me.”Ian forced a single, cold piece of carrot into his mouth. He chewed slowly, like it was made of cardboard, his eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond Zhedya’s shoulder. It was his only rebellion left…this heavy, silent no.Zhedya watched him for a long minute. Then, his own fork hit the china plate with a sharp, startling CLANK!Ian flinched, his gaze snapping back to the present.“I did what you wanted,” Zhedya said, his voice tight. He wasn’t yelling, but the hurt in it was somehow worse. “I spared her. Is this my thanks? This… this miserable s

The Only Thing That Scares Him.

Chapter Seventy Seven: The Only Thing That Scares HimJust a little more…Ian leaned forward, his fingers starting to slip on the cold glass. The wind screamed in his ears, but underneath it was a quiet, peaceful whisper. The roar of the waves on the rocks far below sounded like an ending. A clean, final end. He let his body go loose, ready to meet it.“IAN!”The scream tore through the wind, raw and desperate. It was Zhedya’s voice, but it was a sound Ian had never heard from him before…not a command, not a purr, but pure, unfiltered panic.A split-second before his balance tipped into nothing, iron-strong arms wrapped around his chest and yanked him back so violently the air was knocked from his lungs.He was hauled back from the edge, crushed against a solid chest. They stumbled and landed hard on the cold balcony floor in a tangled heap.“No. No, no, no,” Zhedya chanted into his ear, his voice cracking. The arms around Ian weren’t just holding him; they were shaking. “What w

The Colour Of Ashes.

Chapter Seventy Eight: The Colour of Ashes The past few weeks had bled into one long, grey fog. Ian’s depression wasn’t just sadness anymore; it was a heavy, silent blanket that smothered everything. He was a ghost in the glass house, sleeping through the days, staring at the walls, barely touching the food Zhedya brought him. “Ian, love,” Zhedya would say, his voice soft and pleading. He’d hold a spoonful of soup. “Just a little. For me.” Ian would turn his head away, slow as a rusted hinge. He would look at the food like it was something foreign, then just close his eyes. It was a quiet, final kind of no that was louder than any scream. The fights were gone. The sharp words, the glares, the little acts of rebellion…all of it. The silence that replaced them was worse. It was hollow and it scared Zhedya down to his bones. The nightmares were the worst part. Ian would jerk awake in the dead of night, gasping, his skin slick with cold sweat. Sometimes he would cry o

The Ghost In The Glass House.

Chapter Seventy Nine: The Ghost In The Glass House ONE YEAR LATER. Three hundred and sixty-five days. That’s how long the silence had lasted. Ian lay perfectly still in the hospital bed Zhedya had installed in the master suite, turned into a sterile, high-tech sanctuary. He was so pale he seemed carved from moonlight, his skin almost the same shade as the platinum hair Zhedya meticulously maintained, dyeing the roots every few weeks. He was a beautiful, broken statue. A sleeping angel who had forgotten how to wake up. The little boy he had saved, Leo, was fine. A few scratches, a story about a hero for show-and-tell. He was back to running and laughing. Ian had taken the full force of the world for him, and the world had left him here, trapped in a quiet nowhere. The only sounds in the room were the steady, mocking beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor and the soft, desperate rustle of pages as Zhedya turned them. Zhedya was a ghost haunting his own life. He was thi

The Waking Shadow.

Chapter Eighty : The Waking Shadow “You’re going to be good and tell me how to find The Ghost.” Zhedya’s voice was a quiet hum in the dark, empty auto shop. He circled the man tied to the metal chair, his footsteps the only other sound besides the frantic, ragged breathing of his guest. Kaz was a fixer and a messenger for bad people. Zhedya had tracked him down like a hound on a scent, and now he was the only thing standing between Zhedya and the man who’d tried to take Ian from him. Zhedya wasn’t yelling or even angry. That was the scariest part. He was calm, too deadly calm. He moved to a rusty workbench and began laying out tools…a scalpel, a pair of pliers, a bone saw. He placed them neatly on a stained rag, like a surgeon preparing for a delicate operation. “Kaz,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “We both know you’re a switchboard. You hear things. I need an address or a pattern or favorite weapon. Anything on the man they call The Ghost.” He picked up the scalpel, tes

...

6 7 8 9 10

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP