บททั้งหมดของ Delayed but his: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 57

Arman’s pov “Arman.Can we talk ?” I averted my gaze from my phone screen to see it was Alda. I had been waiting endlessly to get a feedback from Simon —the bust we had planned on the Genovese went smooth.We lost two men but then attacking them out of the blues had put them on the losing side. “Hey”I muttered ,setting my phone aside. “I..I’ve been wanting to have this conversation with you..anybody..Gosh..I can’t hold it anymore” “Hey relax.Come here..what’s wrong?” “Please don’t get mad at me ..” “Go on” “I might’ve caused all of this..the bust..Estella being kidnapped “ “I don’t follow” “Ok.It all started the night I went out for a party with my friends…no not friends!..more like acquaintances,we study the same course.Well I hooked up with a guy back then,I needed the fun and he was so cute and all.Then he started asking a lot of questions…” “Hold on.What sorta questions?” “I was drunk!”she cried,expression naked with regret”I can’t remember all of it..but t

One month later: Arman’s pov. I had grown into an alcoholic-it’s been one month since Estella got kidnapped and I was losing my mind.Two weeks since we ordered a bust on the Genovese and it had only made them go MIA. Father had mentioned that they might’ve gotten an Intel and made sure nothing or anybody important was left in the crime scene during prior house to the bust.I didn’t even want to think about Estella being the price for their silence. Every search I made on Ralph turned to a dead end.I thought of Checking overseas,nothing still,no flight tickets ,no restaurant bills that could leak his or Estella’s location. The amber liquid, I drank,usually a balm for a tense day, felt hollow, acting as fuel for the fire of anxiety burning in my chest.My lover—the only fragility in my ruthless existence—was gone, snatched from a world I had promised to protect her from. I stared at the empty, plush chair across from him, imagining her there, perhaps wearing that soft shirt j

Ralph’s pov Inside the living room I sat in,the only light came from the dying embers in the fireplace and the amber glow of the whiskey swirling in the crystal tumbler I drank from.I was a man accustomed to absolute control, a ruthless architect of fear, yet tonight,my empire felt hollow. The stark reality of the basement—the stolen life I had placed there—pressed against my mind with the force of an oncoming storm.I wasn't supposed to feel.I was supposed to break Arman by breaking her. Yet, while drinking alone, the terrifying realization set in: I was falling for my hostage. It started as a simple obsession, a need to possess something untainted by the blood-soaked world I inhabited.I had intended to use her as leverage, a pawn in a brutal game of territorial supremacy. But the "dark romance" was shifting; the cold, granite hardness of my resolve was softening, cracked by her defiance and quiet resilience. As the liquor warmed my throat, the image of her face ,angry, and undeniab