Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Chapter 87.

"Shut up!!! Shut the fuck up!."I scream. My voice cracking loud enough that it echoes. "You ruined it."

For a second, his expression shifts from Confusion, then anger again, deeper this time.

"You ruined my only chance," I spit, tears burning my eyes now. "My only chance to make it right. To take something back."

His brows knit together. "What are you talking about?"

I point toward the empty space behind him. "Bring him back, bring him back right now."

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

"You’re not touching him," Zane says flatly.

"I didn’t ask for your permission," I scream. "I asked you to bring him back!."

The room feels like it’s spinning. I can barely breathe.

"I needed that," I say, my voice breaking. "You don’t understand what you took from me."

Something in my face must change, because his expression hardens in a different way.

"I’m not letting you do whatever you wanted to do herr," he says.

"You don’t get to decide what happens to me," I snap.

That’s when he moves.

Before I can react, he bends, hooks an arm around my legs, and lifts me clean off the ground. My stomach lurches as I’m thrown over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

"Put me the fuck down," I scream, pounding my fists against his back. "Put me down right now."

He doesn’t even flinch.

I hit him again and again. My blows land uselessly against his shoulders, his spine, my nails scraping fabric.

"You can’t do this," I sob. "You don’t own me."

He pushes through the crowd, people scrambling out of the way, muttering, staring. Som someone whistles.

I hate them all.

I slam my fists harder, rage and grief pouring out of me. "You took my revenge. You took it from me."

His grip tightens around my legs.

"Stay still," he growls.

The cold air hits my face as we burst out of the club doors. The noise cuts off abruptly, replaced by night sounds and distant traffic.

I keep hitting him until my arms ache, until my throat is raw from screaming.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t let me go either.

And somewhere between the doors and the pavement, the truth settles heavy in my chest.

Whatever I came here to do, whatever I thought I could control, it’s gone now

He shoves me into the back seat like I’m nothing more than cargo.

I land hard, shoulder knocking against the door, the impact rattling my teeth. The door slams shut right after. The sound echoing inside my skull.

I look up and I find Aaron is already in the driver’s seat. His hands are tight on the steering wheel, he doesn’t look back and doesn’t say a word.

Zane climbs in beside me, the car dipping slightly under his weight.

I curl in on myself and turn toward the window, folding my arms tight across my chest. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. I don’t want to look at him. If I do, I might actually break.

He doesn’t flinch. "Yes."

"I was there to kill him," I scream.

The word finally comes out broken.

Zane stares at me, stunned for half a second before fury crashes back over his face.

"Don’t say things like that," he snaps.

"I mean it," I yell back. Tears blur my vision but I don’t stop. I can’t. "I had it planned. I had him alone. I was ready."

His jaw tightens. "You’re not a killer."

"You don’t get to decide that," I scream. "You don’t get to decide anything about me."

Aaron clears his throat quietly from the front, uncomfortable, but neither of us acknowledges him.

Zane leans closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You were going to destroy your life."

I laugh, sharp and hysterical. "What life?"

"I’ve been dying slowly while everyone pretends not to see it," I continue, words pouring out now, unstoppable. "I wake up sick and go to sleep so exhausted. I count my days whether I want to or not. And that man gets to walk around breathing like he didn’t ruin everything for me."

My chest heaves. I wipe at my face angrily, smearing tears away.

"You dragged me out like I was a child throwing a tantrum," I spit. "You disrupted my plan. The one thing I needed to do for myself."

Zane runs a hand through his hair, pacing energy trapped in a seated body. "That wasn’t revenge. That was suicide."

"Maybe but I don’t care," I shoot back.