All Chapters of My Dirty Night Secret : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ANGELA’S POVAll the color drained from my face.The first man turned to speak with the driver while the second scanned the rows of passengers. I recognized him instantly. That cold, unwavering stare locked onto me and shattered every fragile hope of escape.Dog.He moved down the aisle with deliberate steps, eyes fixed on me the entire way. I pressed myself deeper into the seat as if it could somehow swallow me whole. If a black hole had opened beneath my feet in that moment, I would have welcomed it.I kept my gaze on the floor, refusing to look up even when he stopped beside me. The weight of his stare still drilled into the top of my head.“Come with me,” Dog said flatly. The firmness in his tone left no room for argument.When I didn’t move, he leaned closer.“Don’t make a scene. Come with me, or I will shoot every person on this bus and drag you out myself.”I saw the dull gleam of the gun strapped at his belt. Without a word, I stood and followed him to the front of the bus.

ANGELA’S POV“Miss! Please wake up!”A distressed voice cut through the darkness. Hands shook my shoulders, dragging me out of the deep sleep I had desperately hoped would never end.My heavy lashes lifted slowly. The first thing I saw was Iris’s worried face leaning over me. I was still slumped against the wall where I had collapsed the night before.“Thank God,” she breathed when my eyes finally opened. “Are you all right, Miss? Do you want me to call a doctor?”“No.” My voice came out rough, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Don’t call anyone.”It hadn’t been a nightmare. The gilded cage was real. The invisible shackles around my wrists and the crushing weight on my shoulders were real.“Are you sure? You look pale.”“I said I’m fine.” The snap in my tone wasn’t meant for her. Iris had done nothing wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”“It’s quite all right, Miss.” She offered a small, understanding smile. “I’ll draw you a bath.”I wanted to refuse, but no words came. My gaze caught on

ANGELA’S POVDays blurred together until a full week had passed since I first arrived at Hanzo’s mansion.Time moved strangely here. The lonely hours dragged, yet the evenings when we shared dinner seemed to vanish in an instant. Those meals had become a quiet ritual. Whenever he wasn’t at the club, he made certain we ate together. Sometimes we barely spoke. Other times we talked for hours like ordinary people—as if I weren’t his prisoner and he weren’t my captor.I had learned things about him I never expected. He hated pickles. He kept a gun under his pillow. Somewhere along the way I had begun sharing small pieces of my own life. He always listened with quiet intensity, even if he rarely offered comments in return. It was an odd, careful exchange.The cold mask never fully dropped, but I had started to notice flashes of something human. He grew irritated when I asked too many questions. He seemed pleased when I wore white and left my blonde hair loose. He had even allowed me to

ANGELA’S POVThe crackling fire in the hearth cast a warm orange glow across the room. Hanzo sat in the armchair with his back to me, a glass of whiskey dangling loosely from his long fingers as if it might slip and spill at any moment. All I could see was the dark fall of his thick hair and the line of his arm. The thick carpet swallowed the sound of my footsteps.I crossed the large bedroom on silent feet, the weight of what I was about to do pressing heavier with every step. He had not hesitated when he ordered Fred killed. He had not blinked when Aria was beaten and nearly raped. Violence came to him as easily as breathing. And here I stood, shaken to my core by the mere thought of his blood on my hands.The urge to turn and run grew stronger with each uncertain step, yet I forced myself forward. After everything he had done—to me, to Aria, to Fred—I could not walk away.Knife gripped in white-knuckled fingers, I rounded the armchair. The least I could do was look him in the eyes

ANGELA’S POVPain is merciless. It can break even the strongest will, searing through the body like a storm that sweeps away every clear thought and turns everything good against you. It makes you beg for the feeling to stop.My eyes opened to a white ceiling and the distant crackle of a fire. Soft orange light flickered at the edge of my vision. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity.The first time I surfaced, I was in a car, laid across the back seat with my head cradled against a warm, solid chest. The second time was a blur of blinding white lights and unfamiliar voices. I remembered being rushed somewhere, a man in a medical mask leaning over me. Now, for the third time, the panic and noise were gone. Only the quiet sound of the fire remained.My mouth was dry. My body felt stiff and heavy.“What happened?” The words scraped past my chapped lips in a rough whisper. I wasn’t certain anyone was even in the room to hear them.Then came the sh