Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

Chapter Twenty-OneLaila’s POVThe amber liquid tasted like liquid gold by my fifth shot, burning away the cold humiliation that had settled into my bones.The low, heavy bass of the club vibrated right through the soles of my high heels, turning the blurred neon lights of The Masks into a spinning kaleidoscope of purple and crimson. I leaned my elbows heavily against the cool marble of the bar, staring at my reflection in the dark, mirrored glass behind the top-shelf liquor.Delicate.The word echoed in my mind, tasting far worse than the cheap tequila burning my throat. He thought I was delicate. He thought I was some weak, helpless little girl who needed to be sent home to cry in her pillow while he kissed high-fashion models in silk dresses."Another double," I slurred, tapping my knuckles against the polished counter.The bartender hesitated, his hand hovering over the bottle. "Miss... you've had five heavy doubles in under twenty minutes. Maybe I should get you some water or cal

Chapter Twenty-ThreeZane’s POVI shut the heavy bedroom door as quietly as I could, letting the thick wood click into place. The room behind me was dead silent now. Laila was fast asleep on my king-sized bed, wrapped in the dark silk sheets, her small body completely exhausted from the panic and the alcohol.I rubbed my hand over my face, resting my forehead against the cool wooden door for a long second. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a caged beast. The sweet, warm scent of her skin—a sharp mix of vanilla and pure fear—was still clinging to my throat, suffocating me.I needed a drink. I needed something cold and strong to wash her out of my system before my wolf pushed me to do something we would both regret.I turned away and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the private bar in the center of the penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed the shadowy outline of the town below, quiet and dead under the midnight sky. I rounded the marble counter, reaching for a

Chapter Twenty-FiveLaila’s POVA pounding headache hammered against the inside of my skull before I even opened my eyes.My mouth tasted like ash and stale tequila, every muscle in my body aching as if I’d been dragged through gravel. I groaned softly, squeezing my eyes shut against the sharp, disorienting haze of a heavy hangover. But as the fog in my brain began to thin, I realized the mattress beneath me wasn't my thin, lumpy futon. It was soft—unbelievably soft—wrapped in crisp, high-thread-count silk that smelled subtly of rain and cedar.I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly against the soft morning light filtering into the room.The bedroom was massive. High ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a sprawling floor-to-ceiling glass wall that looked out over the foggy, sleeping skyline of the town. My heart gave a sudden, panicked thud as I sat up, pulling the heavy comforter to my chest. I looked down at myself. My lace corset from the night before was gone, replaced by a massive, dark

Chapter Twenty-SevenLaila’s POVThe engine of the motorcycle died, leaving only the quiet morning breeze rustling through the trees outside my apartment building. I pulled the heavy, matte-black helmet off my head, shaking out my messy ponytail, and handed it back to Zane."I'm buying out your debt," Zane said, his voice deep and smooth as he rested his large, calloused hands on the handlebars, looking down at me with lethal seriousness. "All of it. Rico, the interest, your mom's hospital bills. It's done."I stared at him, blinking back my shock before letting out a sharp, cold laugh."No."Zane’s dark eyebrows pulled together, his golden-hazel eyes searching my face. "No?""No," I repeated firmly, crossing my arms tightly over the massive grey t-shirt he’d put me in. "That’s just trading one debt for another, Zane. I don't know where your money comes from, and I am not putting my life or my mother’s care into the hands of a stranger who runs underground clubs and leaves naked women

Chapter Twenty-NineLaila’s POVThe moment the video call with my mother ended, the fragile smile on my face vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp wave of reality. I stared at the sterile hospital room background fading off my screen, then turned to look at the messy paper napkin sitting on my coffee table. Laila Vance. My signature looked tiny beneath Zane’s bold, razor-sharp handwriting.I couldn't afford to crumble. Not today. Not ever.I threw myself into work with a vengeance, using the lingering adrenaline from the morning to burn through the fog of my hangover. I stripped Zane’s massive t-shirt off, tossed it straight into the back of my closet out of sight, and pulled on a pair of old denim shorts and a faded t-shirt. I spent the next two hours scrubbing my small apartment until every surface gleamed—washing dishes, sweeping the floorboards, and resetting my chaotic life into some semblance of order.By noon, I was at the bar, calling the one person who had been in my corner sin