Home / Mafia / My Bestfriend’s Brother / Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

All Chapters of My Bestfriend’s Brother : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

182 Chapters

Chapter 151: Girlfriend’s hunter

Isla’s POV My phone sits in my hand. The last message on the screen makes a small smile tug at my mouth.I glance over at Rico.He’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. His expression is thoughtful, but there’s a small amused curve to his mouth like he knows something I don’t.“You’ve been staring at that message for a while,” he says.I lock the phone quickly. “I have not.”Rico chuckles. “You have.”“It’s nothing.”“Mhm.”He doesn’t push further, but the silence that follows feels heavier. The bar had been loud—music pounding through the walls, voices layered over each other, glasses clinking. Rico had ordered drinks without asking what I wanted, which somehow irritated me and made me laugh at the same time. He had talked about business, about traveling, about random stories that somehow turned into elaborate jokes. I had listened. But my mind kept drifting somewhere else. Back to the apartment, back to Zayne. Back to the way his touch

Chapter 152: Did I kill her?

Zayne’s POV My heart starts pounding harder.“Isla?” I repeated, voice low, rough from sleep.She doesn’t answer, that’s when I realize something is wrong. Her posture is strange. A cold sensation crawls down my spine. She’s not awake.I’ve seen sleepwalking before. My mother used to do it sometimes when I was a kid, wandering down the hallway at three in the morning like her mind had forgotten where her body was.Isla tilts her head slightly, like she’s listening to something far away.My jaw tightens. Slowly, I approach her like you would approach a wild animal.“Isla,” I say again, softer.Still nothing. Her eyes are open, but they’re empty. Not seeing me or the room. She’s somewhere else.“There was blood,” she murmurs again.My stomach twists.The words hit something deep inside my skull. A place I’ve been trying hard to touch. I stop a few feet behind her.My pulse thuds loudly in my ears.“Isla,” I say quietly.Her fingers drag slowly across the glass.“It was everywhere…”The

Chapter 153: Morning wood

Isla’s POV Something warm presses against my thigh.At first my brain doesn’t register what it is. I’m half asleep, drifting somewhere between dreams and reality, wrapped in the heavy comfort of Zayne’s warmth and the slow rhythm of his breathing beside me. Then the warmth shifts, and suddenly it’s very obvious what it is. My eyes snap open.Zayne is still asleep next to me, lying on his back with one arm stretched above his head, the sheets pushed halfway down his hips.Completely naked.And unfortunately for my ability to pretend I’m still asleep… his dick is very aware that it’s morning.Heat rushes straight to my face.“Damn,” I mutter under my breath.My movement must disturb him, because his brows pull together slightly before his eyes slowly open. Dark, heavy with sleep. For a moment he just looks at me, his gaze unfocused as his brain catches up with reality.Then he notices the way I’m staring.“What?” he murmurs.His voice is deep and rough with sleep.I gesture vaguely to

Chapter 154: Check in with Dr Pierce

Zayne’s POV Four hours later, I arrived in Fairview.The building hasn’t changed. It still smells like antiseptic and expensive furniture the moment the elevator doors slide open. The hallway lights are too bright, reflecting off marble floors that make every footstep echo slightly.I step out anyway. Dr. Pierce’s office sits at the very end of the corridor, exactly where it always is. Dr. Harrington Pierce, MD — PsychiatryI stare at the name for a second longer than necessary. My jaw tightens slightly before I push the door open.The receptionist looks up from her desk. She smiles politely.“Good morning, Mr. Bellandi.”“Morning.”“You’re right on time. Dr. Pierce will see you shortly.”I sit in one of the leather chairs in the waiting area. Ten minutes later, the door to the inner office opens. Dr. Pierce steps out. He looks exactly like he always does. Mid-sixties. Silver hair. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit. Calm expression carefully practiced over years of dealing with oth

Chapter 155: Miss sleep walker

Isla’s POVA day later.Morning light creeps through the window in gold strips, reflecting across the floor and climbing slowly toward the bed. For a long moment I stay still, staring at the ceiling while the events of the last few days shuffle around in my head like cards that refuse to arrange themselves into something clear.And then Zayne’s words yesterday morning.My mom used to do that when I was a kid.Except the way he said it hadn’t sounded casual. It sounded… thoughtful. Like he’d remembered something he hadn’t expected to remember. I roll onto my side and reach for my phone on the nightstand.8:47 AM.Zayne already left for work an hour ago. I remember him kissing my forehead before slipping out of bed, careful not to wake me. But he still woke me anyway, not with words. Just the quiet shift of the mattress and the warmth of his body moving away from mine.The apartment is silent now. And silence is dangerous when your brain is full of questions. I unlock my phone. The bro

Chapter 156: My mother’s name isn’t Celeste

Zayne’s POV That evening. My phone lights up on the dashboard just as I’m pulling into traffic. For a second I think it’s another useless notification—emails, business updates, something Rico probably sent just to annoy me. But when I glance down, I see her name. Isla. The tension sitting in my chest loosens just a fraction. She finally responded. I pick up the phone at the next stoplight. Isla: You coming over tonight? Just that. No emojis or teasing. It’s simple, but something about the message feels… careful. I type back quickly. Me: Yeah. Then I add: Give me fifteen minutes. Three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. Finally her reply comes through. Isla: Okay. That’s it. The light turns green and I put the phone down again, merging into the evening traffic. Seattle is glowing tonight, wet pavement reflecting streetlights, people rushing between restaurants and late meetings, taxis weaving through the lanes. Normally I like the drive, but tonight my mind is

Chapter 157: Her real name is Quinn Hart

The words leave my mouth quietly, but the way Zayne’s expression changes tells me they land harder than I expected. For a second he just stares at me. Like the sentence hasn’t fully registered yet.“What?” he says finally.I swallow, my fingers tightening around the glass of iced tea in front of me.“Celeste isn’t her real name.”The room feels smaller now. The warm light above the kitchen table is suddenly too bright, too focused.“Her real name is Quinn Hart,” I say. “She changed it.”Zayne’s jaw tightens slightly. He leans back in his chair like someone just knocked the air out of him.“Quinn…” he repeats under his breath.The name clearly means something to him and that alone makes my stomach twist. Because hearing my mother’s name in my boyfriend’s voice is one of the strangest feelings I’ve ever experienced.For a moment neither of us says anything. The silence stretches between us like a tight wire.I exhale slowly.“All the time you mentioned Celeste,” I say quietly, rubbing m

Chapter 158: No more secrets

Zayne’s POV I don’t want anything else standing between us. Not lies or secrets.For too long my life has been built around things I refused to look at too closely—memories that slipped through my fingers, pieces of my past that never quite made sense, conversations I avoided because digging deeper meant confronting things I wasn’t ready to face. But Isla changed that. She has this way of forcing truth into the open without even trying. And tonight, sitting across from her at the small kitchen table in her apartment, I realize something with a clarity that feels almost painful.If I want to keep her in my life…then there can’t be anything left in the dark. No more hiding. No more waiting for the “right time.”If something exists in my past that could hurt her, she deserves to hear it from me first.Isla is leaning back in her chair now, arms crossed loosely over her chest while she stares at nothing. I hate that look. Because it means she’s still processing everything I told her.I

Chapter 159: What do you do in this situation?

Zayne’s POVI don’t sleep again after that, not really. I lie there with my arm around her, staring at the ceiling while the memory keeps replaying behind my eyes.A gun, my hand, the weight of it. This is real, too real to be something my mind made up, and the worst part isn’t what I saw. It’s what I didn’t. Beside me, Isla shifts slightly in her sleep. Her breathing has calmed now, even and soft. Like whatever she was reliving earlier has passed.But the words she said: Don’t shoot. They won’t leave my head, because that wasn’t random. It was a memory, my memory.I turn my head slightly, looking down at her. Her face is peaceful now. It doesn’t match what I saw earlier. It doesn’t match the way her body had stiffened near the window or the way her voice had sounded, like she was dreaming.I close my eyes briefly. Trying to force the memory back. The room, the gun in my hand, someone in front of me. I push harder, trying to see more, but my mind resists, like it always does. A qui

Chapter 160: Was that a dream?

Isla’s POV I wake up gasping, violent and sharp. Like my body dragged me out of something before I could see how it ended. My chest rises too fast, breath catching halfway in my throat as I stare up at the ceiling, disoriented for a second.Dark room, faint city light slipping through the curtains. Zayne’s arm is still draped over my waist.I close my eyes again, trying to steady my breathing. But the feeling doesn’t go away. That lingering… fear. The kind that sticks to your skin even after the dream is gone.Because the dream is gone, that’s the worst part. I can’t remember it clearly.Was that a dream or did I sleepwalk? I suck in a breath.No, that wasn’t just a dream. My stomach twists, because it felt familiar. Like something I’ve said before or something I’ve heard. I sit up slowly, careful not to wake Zayne. His arm slips from my waist as I move, but he doesn’t stir.Still asleep. Good, because I don’t think I’m ready to explain this, not even to myself.I swing my legs over

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