บททั้งหมดของ WEBS OF FORBIDDEN ENTANGLEMENT: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The hospital did not sleep. It only pretended to be quiet. Machines hummed. Footsteps echoed. Voices whispered behind closed doors.And somewhere within all of that… Tricia lay awake. Staring at the ceiling. Listening to the rhythm of her own breathing… as if it no longer belonged to her.She hadn’t returned to sleep after seeing Raymond. Sleep feels impossible now.Every time she closed her eyes… She saw him. Still. Broken. Unreachable.Her fingers tightened slightly around the thin hospital blanket.He may wake… or he may not.The doctor’s words refused to leave her. They lingered like a shadow over her thoughts. A future suspended. A life paused. And somehow… She was still here. Still breathing. Still thinking. Still feeling everything. Too much.Her throat tightened.“Why does it feel like I’m the one who shouldn’t have survived…” she whispered into the silence.The question dissolved into nothing. No answer came. Only the soft beeping of the machine beside her.The door opened q

The walls of the holding cell were too quiet. Not silent…no.Silence would have been easier. This… this was something else. The distant clang of metal doors. Murmured voices from officers outside. Footsteps that came and went without meaning.It all blended into a dull, relentless reminder… Mark Coleman was no longer in control of anything. He sat on the narrow bench, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together.For the first time in years… He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to fix anything. Didn’t know how to undo what had already been done.His jaw tightened.“Too late. I have them both.”Sean’s voice echoed again in his head. Cold. Final. Unapologetic.Mark squeezed his eyes shut. Then came the sound. That sound. The gunshot. It replayed over and over, louder each time, as if his mind refused to let him forget. His fingers curled into fists.“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath.He had tried to stop it. He had called. He had told Sean to stand down. H

Sleep did not come easily in a place like this. Not because it was noisy. Not because it was uncomfortable. But because there was nowhere to run from your own mind.Mark sat on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held answers. It didn’t. Nothing did. Not anymore. The air in the cell felt heavier tonight. Thicker.Like something unseen had settled into the space with him, something that whispered every truth he didn’t want to face.She’s pregnant.The words echoed again. Relentless. Unforgiving.His jaw tightened.A child. Maybe his. Maybe not. And somehow, that uncertainty was worse than guilt. Because guilt… at least you could own.But this? This was a question that would follow him for the rest of his life.He dragged a hand down his face slowly.“I ruined everything…” The words came out hoarse. Barely audible. But saying them didn’t make them less true. It only made them real. Too real.A sharp knock against the bars snapped him out of it.

Hospitals were built to save lives. But they were also perfect places to take one. Too many rooms. Too many faces. Too many ways to disappear.The message had been sent. And received. No reply came. None was needed.Sean lowered the phone slowly, slipping it back into his pocket.His arm still throbbed beneath the bandage, each pulse a reminder of the knife, the chaos, the moment everything almost slipped out of his control.Almost.His lips curved faintly. No regret. Never that. Just… irritation. Because he had underestimated one thing.Raymond.But that mistake would not happen again.He adjusted the cap on his head slightly, his movements calm, unhurried. Around him, hospital staff moved in a quiet rhythm. Nurses. Doctors. Orderlies. Each one focused. Each one distracted. Each one… useful.Sean’s eyes moved subtly, mapping everything. Entrances. Exits. Security positions. Patterns. He didn’t rush. Men like him never rushed. Because patience… that was where control lived.Inside the

The atmosphere inside the hospital shifted so subtly at first that only trained eyes could detect it, yet within minutes the entire building carried the weight of a silent, tightening grip.Security, once routine and almost invisible, became deliberate and unmistakable. Officers repositioned themselves at key junctions, their gazes sharper, their movements more controlled. Communication flowed quietly through radios clipped to shoulders, coded language passing between them like threads weaving an unseen net.General Watson stood at the centre of it all, his presence commanding without the need for raised voices. Years of military discipline had carved precision into his instincts, and those instincts now told him one thing with absolute certainty…this was no longer a precautionary situation. It was an active threat.“Seal every access point,” he instructed, his tone low but firm. “No one leaves without clearance. No one enters without verification.”“Yes, sir.”The response came inst