All Chapters of His Beautiful Nightmare: From Chaos to obsession.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"I'll go," Lokie muttered, the words barely left her lips as she forced them out.Gorge froze, paused and turned to the young girl that was all covered in blood. Almost like she just escaped a blood bath."Take me instead." She added.A smile spread on his lips, he let out a knowing laughter."And how can I trust it?" He pointed out, "you aren't exactly one to be trusted" Lokie bit her lower lips, the urge to close the distance between them and snap his neck out of his body was like a needle buried in her flesh.She wanted to laugh, and tell him he couldn't truly trust the words that left her lips but then, she caught sight of Dawn, held captive with the sharp edge of the knife resting on her neck. A prickle of blood ran down her skin.Dawn stared pleadingly at Lokie, silently begging her not to do anything stupid."Fuck!" Lokie cursed, hating how much she wanted to end all of them but couldn't.Her eyes found Dawn again and without thinking, she let down her guards. Her knife fell

Enzo leaned back in the tall, expensive leather office chair at the center of the long conference table, the cool material creaking faintly under his weight. The room smelled of polished wood, aged whiskey, and the faint undercurrent of expensive cologne from the men seated around him. Their voices rose and fell in heated discussion, but the words barely registered. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in the chaos that had stormed into his life like a hurricane.Lokie. That woman wasn’t just a handful—she was a goddamn wildfire wrapped in unpredictable madness. He couldn’t shake the image of her at the altar: those wild eyes gleaming as she sank her teeth into his lip, then slowly, deliberately licking the blood from her own mouth like it was the sweetest victory. The spark of fearless hunger in her gaze had sent a chill down his spine even as rage boiled in his chest. And the way she spoke—loud, unfiltered, cutting through silence like a blade. He still couldn’t believe he was shackle

"How... dare you..." Lokie's voice cracked.A single tear traced a hot, stinging path down the corner of her eye, before she could stop it. She hated it immediately . She was supposed to be unbreakable. She had swallowed worse pain than this without flinching: the ropes biting into her wrists in the frozen blind spot of Suzuki’s secret room, the cold promise of death in Raman’s eyes. Those had been sharp, clean agonies she could endure. This was different. It sat heavier in her chest. Embarrassment burned through her, anger twisted inside her, and something else lingered beneath it that she refused to acknowledge.fury that twisted like a knife in her gut, and something heavier she couldn’t even name. Her throat tightened until breathing hurt."“You should be happy,” Enzo said, his voice low, dark, and edged with something dangerous that made the air feel thicker.He held her gaze for a long, unbearable minute, eyes boring into hers like a warning carved in stone. “Stop.”The sing

Michello’s laughter boomed through the walls of Enzo’s spacious office, rich and unrestrained. He clutched his stomach, shoulders shaking as a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek.Enzo sat rigid behind his massive desk, his face twisted in a pained scowl. Every burst of his brother’s laughter felt like salt ground into an open wound. Instead of sympathy, he was getting mocked.“Michi,” Enzo growled, voice low and dangerous.Michello tried to compose himself, wiping at his eyes, but the moment he looked at Enzo again, fresh laughter exploded out of him. “Damn, Enzo… you are cooked.” He exhaled sharply, still chuckling. “For real, brother.”He shifted on the soft, expensive white sofa, trying to catch his breath.“Are you done?” Enzo snarled, staring daggers across the room.Michello pressed his lips together, fighting another wave. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done knowing how much your wife fucked you up.”“Us, you mean?” Enzo raised an eyebrow. On

The entire living room reeked of blood and tension. Furniture sat slightly askew from the earlier struggle, dark crimson smears staining the floor and couch. Michello strode straight to where Enzo sat, his sharp eyes dropping to the deep gash on his brother’s thigh. His stomach twisted violently at the sight.Rage—hot, protective, and unforgiving—surged through him like fire in his veins.“Who made you bleed?” Michello’s voice cut through the room, ice-cold and deadly.Bryan opened his mouth, but Enzo shot him a sharp look and smacked his arm, silencing him instantly.“It doesn’t matter,” Enzo muttered, jaw tight.“It doesn’t matter?” Michello repeated, voice rising with disbelief.“Hmm.” Enzo hummed, avoiding his brother’s gaze.Michello scoffed, the sound dripping with disgust. He grabbed Enzo by the collar and yanked him forward until their faces were inches apart, feeling the heat of his own breath. “Do you remember the one thing we don’t tolerate in this familia?” His eyes burn