All Chapters of THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED: Chapter 81
- Chapter 90
138 chapters
CHAPTER 81: THE IRONY OF THE SURVIVALIST
THE IRONY OF THE SURVIVALIST The river rippled over the cool morning breeze with a certain calm that eased anyone swimming through it. The violent, gun-torn stretch of the previous night had died down a few hours ago, replaced with a wide breathing body of water that surged and shifted in slow, patient swells. The sky above it was still dark, untouched by the sun waiting to rise from the horizon. Though the first hints of dawn were already starting to gather at the edge–faint hues of silver waves carrying light that reflected off puffy rain clouds. Far in the distance, a motorboat rumbled, its engine groaning as it managed to tug it over the water. It moves like a shadow against the dark sky, its outline barely visible against the fading night. A low horn blared once, deep and distant, before dissolving into the open air. The tide, no longer under the pull of the full moon, rolled toward the shore in gentle waves, folding over itself as it tasted the sand and retreated back to it
CHAPTER 82: DO I TELL HIM OR NOT?
DO I TELL HIM OR NOT?Elara sat at the dining table in the suite, staring down at the breakfast before her. The eggs had gone cold, and the toast was now hard, but she kept pushing the food around with her fork. It was a nervous habit. She wasn’t hungry. Her stomach felt like it was tied in a knot, and it had been that way ever since she hung up the phone with Damien.The way he had spoken to her on the call kept playing back in her head. His voice had been clipped, his answers short. It left her with an uneasy feeling that she couldn’t shake. She wanted to pick up her phone and call him back. She wanted to hear his voice again just to make sure he wasn't angry or in trouble. But she stopped herself. She knew Damien too well. If she called him repeatedly, he would only get annoyed. He valued his space, and he hated feeling smothered. So, she stayed in her chair, letting the fork move over the plate, trying to force her brain to think about anything else.Elara's mind drifted back t
CHAPTER 83: WHO ANNOYED THE WIFE
WHO ANNOYED THE WIFE Damien walked toward her with a small smile on his face, taking the seat across from her. “Morning,” he said. His voice was warm as he studied her face to see how she would react. But Elara didn't mirror his expression. Her posture was stiff and her fingers lightly pushed food around her plate without actually eating. Damien saw this and wondered why she sat so straight. He also wondered why she moved the food around but didn't eat anything. He remembered other mornings when she ate and talked at the same time. She always looked relaxed then. She always looked happy to see him. But now she looked different and this change made him pay closer attention. He thought about how to make her talk normal again, feeling like it was perhaps because she was moody. He cared about her and wanted her to feel okay. He decided to start with a simple question to see if she would open up. He asked her about her morning. His tone was casual, almost light, as thoug
Chapter 84: THE EDGE OF THE ROAD
THE EDGE OF THE ROAD Ryan fell out from the treeline, staggering onto the gravel edge of the road as he tried keeping to his feet. Branches from low hanging trees whipped at his face and then bushes scraped against his skin, hooked into his torn clothes. They pulled him back and he forced himself forward, ripping a piece of the blood-soaked fabric. He tried to move again, only to be caught by a vine laying on the ground. He fell forward, landing on his good arm as he grunted in pain. It was as if the forest wasn't done with him. Forcing the pain down, he stood to his staggering feet, and moved through the dark. His legs wobbled under him, barely keeping him upright and shaking with every movement he took. Blood seeped from the multiple bullet wounds dotting his torso and side, the dark liquid soaking through what was left of his shirt. It slid down his fingers in warm trails, dripping onto the dry ground as he walked. Every step he took sent a wave of pain through his body
CHAPTER 85: UNDER THE CITY LIGHTS
UNDER THE CITY LIGHTS Damien sat at his desk and watched the sun dip below the city skyline. The orange light hit the glass walls of his office, but he did not find the view relaxing. His focus was entirely on the thick folder open in front of him. These were the contracts from Helios Group. He had been reading them for three hours, and his eyes were starting to ache from the small print. On the surface, the deal looked perfect. The projections showed a thirty percent increase in his company's quarterly revenue, and the legal language seemed standard. But he had been in this business long enough to know that when something looks too clean, it usually isn’t. He replayed the meeting with Sebastian in his head. The man had been too confident, his smile too rehearsed. There was a specific sharpness in Sebastian’s tone that had not matched his friendly words. Damien picked up his pen and circled a clause on page forty-two. It concerned offshore allocations. The wording was vague,
CHAPTER 86: THE CLIPPED EAR
THE CLIPPED EAR The police cruiser’s engine hummed softly as it pulled out from the shoreline and entered the main road. Cars heading to work tried to zoom past it, only to slow after sighting the siren lights and city police badge painted at the side. Damien watched them through the side mirror from the backseat as he slipped one arm out the window, resting it against the door. He draped the other lazily across his lap, jaw tight as he took in sharp breaths. The faint scent of leather and disinfectant filled his lungs, lingering in the air that filled the car. Outside, more cars pulled into the highway, showing that the world had begun to wake. The streetlights scattered along the side of the street flickered off one by one as dawn stretched across the place, the sun rising from the horizon. Light spilled over the hood of the car in warm rays, rolling off the asphalt, and bathing the city with a golden shade. The officer driving hadn't said much when Damien got in. He onl
CHAPTER 87: THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE
THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE Ryan remained still, his blurry eyes dropping on the gun. His attention had left the masked man and the trembling hands upon the weapon and had remained focused on just the barrel. Black, sleek, new-school--It was nearly the same as the one Brooks had flashed at him across the piers hours before. They were both the same black metal, same hollow cylinder that promised finality. The two remained still for a long time, the silence between them growing. The waves kept washing up the shore in gentle surges, rolling off Ryan's back and kissing the beach before rolling back to its home again. A ship in the distance blared its horn, the sound traveling faintly over the water. A gull somewhere farther cried into the fading night. Suddenly, Ryan tipped forward and began laughing. The sound became small at first--breathy and broken--but then it grew into a hoarse, manically laugh that tore it's way out of his chest. It shook his rigid frame that was already wea
CHAPTER 88: COVER YOUR TRACKS
COVER YOUR TRACKS BANG! The force of the recoil traveled through Ryan's arm and jolted his injured shoulder. Groaning in pain, he took a step back and dropped to one knee. He lifted his eyes, watching the thief who'd frozen mid-motion. A steaming hole sat etched in the middle of the man's chest as blood dotted the rest of his shirt. For a heartbeat, nothing happened… and then his body went slack as it tilted forward. The thief fell to the soaked ground with a wet splat, his frame stilling as a flood of crimson pooled under him. Ryan grabbed his shoulder, turning him over with the last of his strength as the sound of waves returned. His hand traveled to the man's neck, checking for a pulse that was no longer there. “Fuck," Ryan cursed under his breath. He remained on the sand, stone digging into his skin. His fingers slowly loosened around the gun until it finally landed with a dull thud. His breath came in ragged pulls and his chest felt like they were about to collaps
CHAPTER 89: THE FITTEST SURVIVES
THE FITTEST SURVIVESFor a long moment, he just stared at it, weighing if he really needed to do what he was about to. But then Brooks' face crossed his thoughts. Jaw tight, he raised the gun, pressing the barrel against the corpse's chest. BANG!!!The shot cracked through the quiet of the morning like a bomb, sending a flock of birds exploding from nearby trees in frantic flutters. The first shot did a number on him and he steadied his hands as he placed the gun at the next bullet hole. He pressed the trigger again, the recoil jarring through his good shoulder and causing his injured shoulder tremble. He nearly dropped back into the sand again, but he bit down hard on the pain. With steady breaths, he lifted the gun and fired again. BANG! BANG! BANG!Every shot created more steaming holes tore through fabric and flesh, matching the ragged openings already on the shirt. After every blast, he shifted position slightly, making sure he never matched the same hole twice. Bang after
CHAPTER 90: THE MEN ABOVE THE WATER
THE MEN ABOVE THE WATERThe engine continued to rumble as the boat cut through the still water like a blade. The morning sun had climbed higher now, its golden rays melting away the last of the fog that'd settled over the dock earlier. Ships filled with metal crates had begun to pull up too, their horns traveling over the river. The water shimmered, the sun's reflection scattered like fractured gold, rippling beneath the motorboat roaring steadily toward the industrial pier. Brooks stood near the bow, one hand resting on the rails as the wind rustled his coat back against his frame, the fabric snapping sharply with each gust. He had a stoic expression etched on his face and the bruise along his cheeks had darkened now into a deeper shade of purple. He clutched his gun tucked behind him, jaw tightening as he thought back to everything that's happened at the shore. Damien wanting to stay back and chat with Jim made his chest tighten with anxiety. But he knew the old bastard couldn't