All Chapters of My Stepbrother's Lust : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

NINA'S POV The first thing I realize after the gates of the Cross mansion disappear behind me is that Cassian’s heartbeat still exists beneath my fingertips—trapped inside his two black credit cards and the ghost of a goodbye I already knew would haunt me for the rest of my life.Surely this wasn't the end…nobody stops a tragically beautiful song halfway and says “end scene”.No. You sit in it. You feel it. You let it break you. Problem is, I'm already broken. So much that the tears don't even fall anymore. They just blur my vision and pool back no matter how hard I blink. The streets blur past in a halo of gold and bright red, but everything inside me just feels so cold, like I'm frozen in place and this is all just a bad dream.I shut my eyes hard and wish this nightmare into the wind, but I open them, and I'm still sitting in this fucking car, choking on leather and the last traces of his scent that my lungs refuse to let go of.Why? Why did it have to be so complicated? Why is

CASSIAN'S POV I always imagined that surrender would feel noble.Turns out it mostly feels like standing in the rain while your stepsister's homicidal brother points a gun at your chest.If Nina could see me now, she'd probably call me an idiot. The worst part is that she'd be right.But did I step forward anyway? You already know the answer. I still feel his gun aimed at my chest as I walk up to the porch. It creaks under my weight, but he doesn't flinch, just stays shrouded in the darkness, gun muzzle gleaming in the faint golden light. “Move.” I release a breath and step into the golden light, eyes roaming over the very, very small apartment. The heater must be cranked high enough. That's the only explanation for the heat climbing up my back as I hear the door shut behind me, locking in the silence that stretched like a band.The apartment is rather empty, save for the small television propped in front of a peeling blue couch that I won't sit on even if he presses the gun int

CASSIAN'S POV I wake up angry—at Lucas, at myself, at the ancient mattress digging into my spine, at the violent thrashing in my chest that keeps repeating the same sentence over and over again.Your mother is dead, Cross.Bullshit.None of that is real, but what is real is the throbbing at my side—like someone has shoved a red hot poker into my ribs and left it there. The room is dark and it smells like a wilted plant in here, but I keep my gaze on the ceiling, blinking through the throbbing that intensified with every breath. He shot me. He accused me of murdering mom, and put a bullet in my side for good measure. I still remember the echo of the gunshot, the fire burning into my flesh, the stickiness that spread even as my grip on his collar stayed firm.We had crumpled to the ground together, gun still pressed to my side, and as the light faded from my eyes, I thought that I had died, that Nina would never know how much any of this meant, and I waited for the last seven minute

CASSIAN'S POV I open the curtain.Nothing.I let it fall shut, count to three, and open it again.Still nothing.Rain drones steadily on the ceiling and slicks the street outside, swallowing the few faces huddling past in umbrellas before I can properly see them, but I keep looking anyway.Because somewhere beyond that window is Nina—the only thing left in my life that isn't a lie.Everything else had unraveled in a single morning.My mother never abandoned me.She was murdered.I didn't spend fifteen years hating a woman who stopped loving me.I spent fifteen years loving the man who killed her. Trying to make him love me, to see me as the perfect son. The perfect fall guy. Bullshit.The curtain slips through my fingers.Then, almost violently, I wrench it open again.Nothing.No hazel eyes, no impatient stride, no wild curls bouncing against her shoulders and sticking to her oval face. Just strangers.More strangers.I don't even realize I'm pacing until Lucas tells me to stop we

CASSIAN'S POV I could stand up. I just can't bring myself to.Nina sits across from me with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her head bowed as though the floor deserves her attention more than I do.She won't look at me.She hasn't looked at me since Axel walked out the front door.But I don't need her eyes to know she's been crying.I see it in the redness lingering on her cheeks, in the way her shoulders curl inward with the careful rise and fall of every breath… like she's trying not to let another one break.And then there's Lucas.Standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded across his chest like a prison guard making sure I don't do the one thing my entire body is begging me to do.Cross the room. Apologize. Touch her.I hate him for it.The worst part?He's probably right. I don't know how long we've been sitting like this, but by the time I finally find the voice to speak, the storm outside has stilled, found its way into my chest…and stayed there. “You never got