All Chapters of BURN ME, ORION : The Billionaire's Reclaimed Obsession: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Orion's POVAfter dropping Anya off at her apartment building, I settled back into the leather seat and told my driver to take me to one of my nightclubs downtown.I needed alcohol. I needed noise and music and crowds of people to drown out the thoughts racing through my head. I needed to wash away all thoughts of Anya, to scrub her out of my mind and forget what had happened between us on this trip.I needed to get her out of my head.Kissing her had been a mistake. I knew that. I knew it. She was married. I was engaged to Kaia. We both had lives and commitments and responsibilities that didn't include each other. That kiss should never have happened, and I should regret it. I should feel guilty, ashamed, angry at myself for crossing that line.But I couldn't regret it.God help me, I couldn't.Her lips had tasted like heaven. Soft and sweet and perfect, just like I remembered from five years ago. Just like when we were younger, when things were so much simpler, when it was just the

Orion's POV"No," I breathed, the word coming out strangled and desperate.I ran toward her, my feet crunching on broken glass that I barely registered. I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands reaching for her but hesitating for just a second, afraid to touch her, afraid of what I would find.Her head was bleeding—a dark, sticky patch of blood matting her hair and trickling down her face in thin red rivulets. Her face was bruised, already swelling, with dark purple marks blooming across her cheekbone and around her eye. Her lip was split and bleeding. There was blood smeared under her nose, dried and crusted on her upper lip.But it wasn't just her face.Her arms were covered in bruises—finger-shaped marks where someone had grabbed her, held her down. Her clothes were torn and disheveled. I could see more bruises on her ribs where her shirt had ridden up, dark and angry-looking, the kind of bruises that came from being kicked or punched repeatedly.She looked broken. Battered. Like

Orion's POVI waited for what felt like forever for the doctors to come out.The emergency room waiting area was sterile and cold, all harsh fluorescent lights and uncomfortable plastic chairs bolted to the floor. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint scent of coffee from a vending machine in the corner. A television mounted on the wall played the news on mute, the images flickering across the screen while I sat there, unable to focus on anything except the double doors Anya had disappeared through.The waiting was absolute torture.Minutes crawled by like hours. Each second felt impossibly long, stretching out endlessly while my mind raced with terrible possibilities. I kept seeing her the way I'd found her—crumpled on the floor, covered in blood and bruises, so still and broken. I kept hearing the fear in her voice when she'd called me, the desperate way she'd begged for help. I kept thinking about what might be happening behind those closed doors righ

Orion's POVAfter what felt like forever, the doctor finally came out.I was on my feet the instant I saw him push through those double doors, my heart hammering against my ribs. He was an older man, probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and the kind of calm, professional demeanor that came from years of delivering both good news and bad. I'd made sure Anya got the best doctors working on her—I'd pulled strings, made calls, thrown money around until the hospital administrator personally assured me that their top trauma team would handle her case.None of that mattered now. All that mattered was what this doctor was about to tell me."How is she?" I demanded before he could even fully approach me. My voice came out rougher than I intended, strained and desperate. "Is she okay? Is she awake?"The doctor's expression remained carefully neutral, but I saw something flicker in his eyes—concern, maybe, or sympathy. Neither of which were things I wanted to see right now."Mr. Konst

Orion’s POVI stopped by my lawyer’s office first.Marcus was waiting for me, sitting at his desk with the divorce papers already printed and organized into neat stacks. He looked up when I walked in, his expression a mixture of concern and professional focus.“Orion, are you sure you want to—”“The papers,” I interrupted, holding out my hand. I wasn’t in the mood for questions or second-guessing or moral debates about what I was about to do.Marcus hesitated for just a moment, then slid the folder across his desk to me. “Everything’s in order. She’ll need to sign too, obviously, but once both signatures are on file and we submit to the court—”“I’ll handle it,” I said, taking the folder and turning to leave.“Orion,” Marcus called after me. I paused at the door, looking back at him. His expression was serious, almost worried. “Whatever you’re about to do… be careful.”I didn’t respond. I just walked out, the divorce papers tucked securely under my arm.I got to the warehouse where Ke