All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

I pushed myself further into the cramped shadow under the old workbench, forcing myself to breathe slowly despite the panic that rose in my throat like a living thing, desperate to claw its way out. My heart thudded loudly, and I was terrified they might hear it. Everything around me smelled like oil, metal, and dust, and the air was heavy with a cold that felt like it seeped right into my bones. When I heard their voices erupt into frantic arguments, it was a mix of relief and terror that nearly made me sob. They hadn’t found me yet-but I knew they would. I wasn’t naive enough to think they’d give up easily; this was clearly planned. Every footstep on the concrete sent a jolt of fear through my body, making me feel like some cornered animal in a horror movie, just waiting for the killer to pull me out by the ankle. I forced myself to look around, desperately searching for anything I could use. My eyes landed on a long metal pipe wedged between a toolbox and an old tire. It wasn’t

Third Person Pov Frank let out a slow breath, as if he had been mulling something over and finally came to the conclusion that there was no point in holding back anymore. He leaned slightly forward, hands clasped tightly between his knees, staring intently at the road as it slipped by under the streetlights. "Look," he started quietly, "I know you might have some thoughts about me and Atlas. Maybe you believe I’m just pretending to care about him or that I’m trying to get something from h or just want to look good in front of everyone. I get why you don’t trust my intentions." Rowan shot him a quick glance, tension evident in the way he held himself, even if he tried to mask it. Frank pressed on. "But I really do love him. Not in some fleeting high school crush way either. I’ve loved him for a while, long before he ever thought about dating me." His voice had a genuine softness, no defensiveness—just honest emotion. "I trea

*Five years ago*I stood there in the cramped living room of our little house, my heart racing as I faced my father, David. He loomed over me, broad shoulders hunched and that familiar scowl etched across his face. At fourteen, I felt minuscule during these moments, especially with his disheveled brown hair framing dark eyes that seemed to see right through anyone who dared to meet them.Those eyes were now fixed on me, burning with an anger that thickened the air, making me tremble as tears welled up and streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I turned my head to escape his glare."Why can’t you just act like a normal boy, Atlas?" he shouted, his voice rumbling like thunder and bouncing off the aging wallpaper. His fists were clenched, knuckles white, and I could smell the mix of diesel and sweat that clung to him after long hauls as a truck driver.Thank goodness he wasn’t around much; the rare times he was away were the only moments I felt I could breathe freely. But when he

The word ’why’ barely escaped my lips, a cracked, breathless sound that died the moment his hand cracked across my cheek. The slap was heavy, snapping my head sideways and filling my ears with a high-pitched ring. Pain exploded across my face, and I tasted blood from where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth. I staggered, my shoulder hitting the wall again, and before the sting could settle, he snarled."I said take them off!" His voice had become flat and terrible, exactly like it did right before the worst storms. "Every goddamn stitch. Now!"My hands trembled so violently I could barely grab the hem of my hoodie. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with blood from my split lip, and I found myself thinking, absurdly, that Mom was supposed to be home by five-thirty because the salon closed early.I held on to that thought like a lifeline—if I could just stall long enough, maybe she would walk in with her purse and tired smile, and it would all stop. But the clock on the cable box

Third Person PovPatrick bolted off the mattress so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own jeans, which were still halfway down his legs. The cocky grin that had been plastered on his face for the last twenty minutes vanished as soon as he recognized the two figures standing in the broken doorway.Rowan and Frank were there, side by side, the light behind them casting sharp shadows that seemed to engulf half the room. Rowan’s fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white; Frank’s jaw muscle twitched like he was grinding rocks, a sign that he was ready for a fight.Alex and Carlisle froze at the foot of the bed. Alex opened his mouth, then shut it again, struggling to find words. Carlisle, always the quickest to recover, forced a crooked grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes and took a casual step toward the newcomers."Ayyy, man," he drawled, his voice cracking just a bit on the second syllable as he nodded over to Rowan. "You guys here to catch the show or what?