All Chapters of Claimed by the wrong leister brother: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

For a moment, all I could hear was the music drifting across the garden.Then, my hand moved and cracked across his face. His head jerked to the side, and the sound seemed to hang between us long after my palm had connected with his cheek.Pain shot through my hand.For one stunned second, I stared at him, my fingers spread, my palm burned.Kade slowly turned his head back.A red mark was already rising across his cheek. He worked his jaw once, then ran his tongue over the inside of his split lip. His eyes settled on me again.“Well.” The corner of his mouth twitched, though there was no real amusement in it. “That answers whether you’ve been holding back.”I hit him again before he could say anything else.This time, I put everything I had into it. My palm caught the other side of his face, and his head snapped away from me. The sting in my hand sharpened, but I barely felt it beneath the rush of anger flooding my chest.“Jesus Christ, woman.”“Screw you!”My voice broke on the word

Kade shoved me flatter against the stone path, one arm braced beside my shoulder, the other wrapped around my waist. His chest pressed against my back. I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, fast and hard, while the garden erupted around us. Lots of stone chips struck my cheek. I flinched, trying to turn my face away, but Kade’s hand closed over the back of my head and held it against the ground. “Stay down, Covey.” A bullet struck the stone somewhere behind us. The sharp crack was followed by a spray of fragments that peppered his back. He didn’t lift his head. If anything, he pressed closer, making himself a shield between me and whatever was tearing through the garden. “Kade—” “Not a word, Covey.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. My hands had found the front of his shirt, bunching the fabric into my fists, and I couldn’t make myself release it. I could smell his cologne beneath the dust and the sharp, unfamiliar scent of gunpowder. Every time a shot rang out

LUCA’S POV(The next morning)Why couldn’t I feel my leg? I stared at the white ceiling, my lungs refusing to work properly as I tried to move beneath the sheets. Something heavy held my leg in place. It seemed like straps, bandages and a metal frame suspending it above the bed.I tried again, harder this time, willing my body to respond.Still nothing.A cold sensation crawled up my spine.No.I played hockey. My entire life revolved around my body doing exactly what I told it to do. Skating, shooting, making split-second decisions on the ice.I couldn’t— What the hell happened to me?Then the memories came back.The wedding arch. The screaming. The sharp cracks of gunfire tearing through the music.I remembered the chaos, bodies scattering in every direction, and the split second when everything went wrong.Noah.Where was Noah?And Kade—My head snapped towards the door.For one stupid second, I expected Kade to be standing there, wearing that infuriating smirk of his, ready to

CATHERINE’S POV“I did nothing wrong.”I repeated it silently, standing behind the kitchen island in the same dress I’d worn to the hospital, my heels abandoned somewhere near the back door.I did nothing wrong.If I repeated it enough times, perhaps it would stop sounding like a question.The kitchen had gone strangely quiet around me. Evening light spilled orange through the windows, catching on the ridiculous vase of flowers someone had arranged that morning for a wedding that had ended in a damn shootout.My hands trembled around the bottle of whiskey as I poured another shot into my glass and downed it in one gulp, still standing because sitting felt too much like admitting I was exhausted.Or guilty.I wasn’t guilty.I had done what any mother would have done. I had protected my son.That was all.Luca’s face kept replaying behind my eyes.The anger. The disbelief. The way he’d looked at me in that hospital bed as though he couldn’t decide which hurt more—the leg or what he beli

NOAH'S POV I had just walked away from the man I'd loved for six years, and somehow the hardest part wasn't leaving him. It was knowing I could have stayed. I could have gone back into that hospital room, taken his hand, cried with him over the hockey career he might lose. I could have done exactly what I'd always done. Stayed. Fixed shit. Forgiven him or pretended the ground under both of us was solid when it had never once actually was. Instead I was sitting cross-legged and barefoot on Quinn's living room floor, my wedding heels abandoned somewhere by the entrance, staring at an open laptop like it held the answer to what the hell I was supposed to do with the rest of my life. "Are you actually damn serious!?” Quinn's voice came from behind me. I looked up. She stood there balancing two mugs of tea, one pressed to her chest, the other dangling from two fingers, her hair knotted up messy on top of her head. She looked exhausted. I was fairly sure I looked worse.