Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 250

Chapter 250: Chapter 250.

I end the call slowly, lowering the phone from my ear as a strange wave of exhaustion suddenly crashes into me.

At first I think it’s just grief, stress or Lack of sleep but then dizziness hits me so hard the ground almost tilts beneath my feet.

I blink rapidly.

What the hell....?

My stomach twists violently and a sharp nauseating roll climbs straight up my throat so suddenly that panic flashes through me immediately.

Oh God.

I’m abut to throw up on Margarets burial ground. I press a hand hard against my stomach, breathing unevenly as another wave hits.

The smell of damp grass, flowers and the heavy scent of funeral roses. Suddenly everything smells too strong and too overwhelming.

I swallow hard against the nausea rising rapidly in my throat.

Nope. No no no.

I quickly turn away from the cemetery before anybody notices me looking like I’m about to collapse. My heels sink slightly into the wet grass as I move faster toward a quieter area farther behind a line of trees near the edge of the property.

My heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears as the nausea gets worse with every step.

By the time I finally reach a secluded spot partly hidden behind stone fencing and overgrown bushes, I barely make it before I’m bending over violently throwing up.

The force of it surprises me and a broken cough tears from my throat as my stomach empties painfully, tears immediately springing into my eyes from how hard I’m gagging.

"Oh God," I choke out weakly between breaths as another wave comes instantly.

I grip the cold stone wall beside me tightly for balance while my entire body shakes.

The dizziness is freaking awful

My throat burns and humiliation creeps in immediately because seriously? At a funeral?

Really?

I squeeze my eyes shut breathing hard through my nose afterward, trying desperately not to throw up again.

Then suddenly....a warm hand touches my back gently and I freeze.

Before panic can properly hit, another hand carefully gathers my hair away from my face.

"It’s okay love."

The quiet voice makes relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckle.

Zane.

I grip the wall harder while another smaller cough leaves me.

"What the hell," I whisper hoarsely, embarrassed beyond belief.

His hand moves slowly up and down my back.

"Easy."

"I think I’m dying now too."

That earns the faintest huff of amusement from him.

"Dramatic much?"

I glare weakly at the ground.

"I literally just threw up my organs."

I groan softly.

The cold air brushes against my damp face while Zane keeps my hair pulled back gently, his hand still moving soothingly across my back in slow circles. The simple touch grounds me more than he probably realizes.

After a minute, the nausea settles enough for me to breathe normally again.

Barely.

I stay bent forward for another few seconds anyway because honestly, standing up feels risky.

"You okay?" he asks quietly behind me.

"No."

His thumb rubs lightly against my back.

"You hit your head?"

I almost laugh weakly.

"What kind of question is that?"

"You nearly passed out at the funeral."

"I did not nearly pass out."

"You swayed."

"I’m grieving."

"You’re pale."

"I’m always pale."

"You look green."

I finally straighten slowly, wiping beneath my eyes carefully before turning toward him.

Big mistake...the dizziness rushes back immediately.

Zane catches my arm before I can stumble.

"Whoa."

"I’m fine," I mutter automatically.

He gives me a look that clearly says liar.

Up close, he looks worried now, actually worried.

His brows slightly drawn together while he studies my face too carefully.

"I’m serious, Elaine."

"I think it’s the stress," I whisper tiredly. "Everything is just... a lot."

That answer seems to soften him slightly.

Yeah.

A lot is probably an understatement.

Margaret’s funeral, the attack, the betrayal hanging over all of us.

It honestly would’ve been weird if my body didn’t eventually snap a little.

Zane brushes a thumb gently beneath my eye catching a tear I didn’t even realize slipped free.

"You should sit down for a minute."

"I’ll ruin my dress."

His mouth twitches faintly.

"Your priorities are really concerning."

I let him guide me carefully toward a small stone bench nearby anyway. The second I sit down, I lean forward slightly breathing slowly through lingering nausea while he stays standing in front of me.

Watching me.

"You scared me," he says quietly after a while.

I glance up.

"You literally got shot days ago."

"And somehow you still find ways to stress me out."

A weak laugh escapes me despite everything, then another strange wave rolls through my stomach again making me close my eyes briefly.

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