Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

DYLAN

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We stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the house wrapping around me, but it felt different-like walking into a memory I wasn’t sure I wanted to relive. Beckett moved ahead of me and set a couple of drinks on the low table in the living room.

“Water?” he offered, his voice careful, almost tentative.

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to stay guarded. But the smell of home, the soft hum of the heater, the way his presence seemed… ordinary-none of it felt dangerous. I took the glass he handed me and nodded.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to steady my voice.

We sat down across from each other, the silence heavy with things we hadn’t said. I took a sip, feeling the cool water slide down my throat, and then I finally spoke.

“I think you already know why I’m here,” I urged, leaning forward. “I may not know your reason for lying to me, but you’ll probably agree with me that I deserve the truth, right?”

“I did everything to protect you, Dylan,” he replied.

“Why does everyone say they have to protect me? Protect me from what?” I asked; irritation was evident in my voice.

“When you lost your memories, I took that as a sign that this is what fate stored for us. That man is dangerous,” he insisted.

“You’re in no position to decide what’s good for me. You robbed me of my choice!”

“Well, clearly, your options led you to that accident,” he said.

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry. I’m doing this for your own good,” he said.

As I tried to get hold of what he was saying, the room suddenly tilted. My vision blurred at the edges. I blinked hard, gripping the edge of the table.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Beckett’s voice cut through the haze.

I shook my head, trying to force my balance back, but the dizziness hit harder, waves of nausea washing over me. The words he was saying became distant and muffled, like I was hearing him underwater.

“I… I don’t feel-” I started, my voice trembling.

My fingers slipped from the edge of the table. My legs felt like they weren’t mine anymore-heavy, useless, and fading fast. The room spun in slow, ugly circles, the walls stretching and bending like they were melting

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Chapter 77

away from me.

Beckett’s face loomed closer.

Too close.

:

“It’s okay,” he said softly, too calmly. Too gentle. “I’ve got you.”

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Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor. His hold was firm, steady, almost tender-but there was nothing comforting about it anymore. My head lolled against his chest, my thoughts scattering, slipping through my fingers like sand.

“What did you do to me?” I whispered.

My tongue felt thick. My words felt slow.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he brushed my hair back from my face, his touch familiar, almost loving-like he was trying to pretend this was care instead of control.

“I told you,” he murmured. “This is for your own good.”

Tears burned in my eyes.

“No,” I breathed. “You can’t do this.”

My vision dimmed at the edges, darkness closing in like a curtain falling.

The last thing I felt was his arms tightening around me.

The last thing I heard was his voice, low and certain.

“I’m not losing you again, Dylan. Not this time.”

And then-

Everything went black.

*

My head was throbbing as I opened my eyes into an unfamiliar room.

The ceiling above me was plain and white, softly lit, and too clean to feel real. For a second, I almost thought I was safe. Almost thought I had just passed out somewhere and been carried into a guest room by someone

who cared.

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Chapter 77

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But then I remember where I was before this happened. I was with Beckett, the same person I thought I could trust. The only person that connects me to my past.

The walls were a soft cream color, clean and unmarked, like no one was ever meant to really live here. The bed beneath me was neatly made, the sheets tucked too perfectly, like a hotel room that didn’t want fingerprints. The blanket smelled like fresh detergent, not like home, not like warmth-just clean and empty.

That’s what made it terrifying.

Because I could feel it. The danger that was lurking behind those walls.

My body felt weak and slow, like I was moving through water. My head throbbed, my mouth was dry, and my limbs were heavy. I tried to sit up, and panic curled in my chest as I realized how unfamiliar everything felt. The smell. The light. The quiet.

My heart started beating faster, each thump loud in my ears. I scanned the room slowly, carefully, as if sudden movement might make something worse. The walls felt too close. The door felt too far. The quiet felt too loud.

I lay there quietly, barely breathing, letting my eyes move instead of my body.

I started noticing everything.

There was a small wooden table beside the bed. No clutter. No photos. No books. No personal things. Just a lamp, a glass of water, and nothing else.

The curtains were thin and pale blue, moving slightly even though the window was closed. I followed them with my eyes and noticed the window itself-locked. Thick frame. No way to open it from the inside.

My chest tightened. But I forced myself to stop panicking and focus. Fear was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I tested the chain first, feeling the cold metal bite against my skin as I tugged. It was thick, bolted to the floor, and immovable. I grimaced and let it slide back.

I scanned the room again, slowly this time, measuring everything like a predator mapping its territory. The bed was light; maybe I could tip it over to reach something I couldn’t see. The lamp? I could use it as a lever, or at least make noise if I needed to signal. The table was nailed down, too solid. Nothing could be easily moved.

I crouched, running my fingers along the edges of the walls and floor. My ears strained for sounds-creaks. footsteps, anything-but there was nothing. Silence, perfect and mocking.

The window was locked, just like I thought. No way to open it from inside. I pressed my weight against it, testing, listening, and feeling. Nothing. Not even a crack.

I thought about the door. That solid, heavy door that kept the outside world away. I tried the handle-it didn’t budge. Locked. Of course it was.

I sank back onto the bed for a moment, catching my breath, heart pounding like a warning drum. Panic tried to creep back in, but I shoved it down. I needed a plan. Every detail mattered. Every flaw mattered.

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Chapter 77

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I noticed the hinges on the door-they looked sturdy, but maybe not unbreakable. I checked the shackle again, tracing the chain to where it met the floor. The bolt was thick and solid, but maybe if I could get leverage… something.

I studied the lamp again. Its cord was long enough, maybe to wrap, hook, or swing. The glass was fragile. The chain was heavy. My mind raced, weaving ideas together, reckless and desperate.

I could feel the chain tug at my ankle as I shifted, a constant reminder of the stakes.

I whispered to myself, almost like a prayer. “There’s always a way. There has to be.”

I tested the chain again, harder this time, listening for any sound of weakness. Nothing.

Then I remembered the small metal hook on the underside of the table-I hadn’t examined it yet. Slowly, painfully, I slid toward it, dragging the chain behind me, dragging myself inch by inch across the floor.

But before I could even make progress, the door suddenly opened.

Beckett didn’t rush in.

He never did anything in a hurry.

He leaned casually against the doorframe instead, arms crossed, posture relaxed-as if he hadn’t just caught me chained to the floor, as if this were some ordinary inconvenience instead of a nightmare unfolding in real

time.

“You really shouldn’t strain yourself,” he said mildly. “You’re still recovering.”

My pulse roared in my ears. I forced myself to sit up straighter, even as the chain rattled softly with the movement. “Let me go.”

He smiled.

Not the smile I used to know. Not the one that had once made me feel safe. This one was tight, controlled, and edged with something possessive that made my skin crawl.

“I can’t do that,” he replied gently. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” I echoed, disbelief turning my fear sharp. “You chained me to the floor, Beckett.”

His expression softened instantly, like he’d been waiting for that accusation. “To protect you

There it was.

The lie was delivered like a truth.

“You disappeared,” he continued, stepping into the room at last. His shoes stopped just out of reach, deliberate. “You went to God knows where. I have to protect you.”

My hands clenched. “Is it? Did you really do this to protect me or to protect your interest?”

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Chapter 77

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His jaw tightened-just for a second-before smoothing over. “You have no idea the sacrifices I made just to keep you safe, away from him.” His voice dropped, intimate.

Anger flared hot and bright. “You lied to me!”

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