Pregnant by My Dead Husband's Best Friend のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

"Today," Drakon whispers.He stares at the screen of the burner phone. The light casts a sickly blue glow on his face, highlighting the hollows of his eyes and the fresh blood smear on his cheek."She's holding today's paper," he chokes out. "The City Gazette. October 7th."He drops the phone. It hits the plaster-dusted floor with a plastic clatter.He backs away, hitting the wall. He slides down until he’s crouching, his hands gripping his hair, pulling hard enough to rip it out."I left her there," he rocks back and forth. "Ten years. I stopped looking. I thought she was dead. And she was... she was in a cage.""Drakon," I say, crawling across the bed to him."Don't touch me!" He flinches away. "I'm poison. I told you. Everyone I love rots."He stands up abruptly, kicking the bedside table over. The lamp crashes."I have to go," he says, his voice manic. "I have to find her.""Where? You don't know where she is!""I'll tear the city apart! I'll burn every Reaper safehouse until I fi

"The third party?" Drakon keeps his gun trained on the man’s chest. "You look like a fed.""Special Agent Miller," the man says, closing the folder. "ATF. Organized Crime Division."Drakon laughs. It’s a harsh, barking sound. "ATF? You boys usually knock with a battering ram, not a Mercedes.""We're trying a different approach," Miller says. He looks at me. His eyes are cold, calculating, assessing me like a piece of evidence. "Mrs. Mikos. Or is it Ms. Vance now? We found the passport in the trash."My blood runs cold. He knows about the fake ID. He knows about the escape plan."What do you want?" I ask, my voice steady despite the trembling in my legs."I want to offer you a life," Miller says. "A real one. Not this..." He gestures to the bike, the gun, the blood on Drakon’s shirt. "This road ends in a ditch or a cell, Thalia. You know that. And now there's a baby involved."Drakon stiffens against me. "You've been watching us.""We have audio from the clinic," Miller says calmly. "S

The truck engine idles, a deep, mechanical growl that vibrates in the pavement beneath my boots.I press myself into the brick recess of the corner building, holding my breath. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.The Reaper who stepped out of the garbage truck—a giant with a shaved head and a beard braided with metal rings—holsters his radio."Load him up," he commands.Two more men jump out from the back of the truck. They wear black tactical gear, no cuts. Mercenaries? Or just Reapers dressed for war?They converge on the crushed Mercedes.One of them rips the driver’s side door off its hinges. The metal screeches, a sound like a dying animal.They reach inside. They grab Agent Miller by his suit jacket.They drag him out.He’s a mess. His face is a mask of blood. His left leg is twisted at a sickening angle, the bone protruding through the expensive charcoal fabric of his trousers.He groans. A low, pained sound."He's breathing," one of the men says."Good," the

I sit on the edge of the desk in the VP suite, holding the patch under the lamp.ELENI.The red thread is faded, turning brown with age and grime. The denim is soft, worn thin by years of friction.It doesn't make sense.Drakon said she was sent back in pieces. He said she was dead. He said this patch was a trophy taken from her body ten years ago.But I look at the stitching. It’s not ragged. It’s not bloodstained. It looks... maintained.And why would a Reaper carry it? Not in a trophy case, but in his pocket? Like a talisman?"Thalia."Drakon bursts into the room. He’s clean—he washed the blood off in the downstairs bathroom—but he still smells of smoke and violence. He’s strapping a fresh Kevlar vest over his chest."We're locking down," he says. "Leon is welding the back gate. I'm putting sharpshooters on the roof.""You're leaving?""I have to secure the perimeter before we move on the slaughterhouse. If we leave the compound open, the Reapers will walk right in and butcher ever

The phone goes dead.The silence that follows is louder than a gunshot. It fills the office, sucking the oxygen out of the air until my lungs burn."She's lying," Drakon whispers.He’s staring at the phone in my hand like it’s a venomous snake that just bit him. His face is gray, the color drained away, leaving only the stark contrast of his dark beard and the haunted hollows of his eyes."She sounded..." I swallow hard. "She sounded sure, Drakon.""She's turned!" He shouts, the sudden volume making me jump. He slams his fist onto the desk, cracking the wood. "They broke her, Thalia! Kyros has had ten years to twist her mind. To make her hate me. It's a psy-op. It's a lie to make me hesitate before I pull the trigger.""Is it?"The question slips out before I can stop it.Drakon freezes. He turns his head slowly to look at me. The betrayal in his eyes is raw, bleeding."You believe her?" he asks softly. "Over me?""I don't know what to believe," I admit, stepping back. "You lied about