Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79

DYLAN

:..

The sound of footsteps outside the door made my spine go rigid.

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I didn’t look up right away. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, on the faint crack in the wood near my bare toes, forcing my breathing to slow. In. Out. Steady. Panic would only give me away. Beckett noticed panic. He fed

on it.

He liked me quiet. Compliant. Small.

I’d learned that much already.

The lock clicked-loud in the stillness. Then the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hallway like it didn’t belong here.

He stepped inside carrying a tray-soup, bread, and a glass of water. The smell of warm broth curled through the air, my stomach betraying me with a low, traitorous ache. It looked almost thoughtful. Almost kind.

Like I wasn’t chained to the furniture in a house that felt more like a tomb with windows-bright on the outside, suffocating on the inside.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said gently, his voice soft and practiced. The tone he used when he wanted to be seen as the good man. The protector. As if this were care and not control.

I lifted my eyes slowly, exactly the way he liked-hesitant, unsure, searching his face for reassurance. I let my shoulders slump, letting the tension melt out of me in a way that felt too rehearsed to be accidental.

Playing the role he wanted to see.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

The word tasted bitter, scraping down my throat like something rotten disguised as sweetness.

His gaze lingered on me, scanning for cracks. For resistance. I felt exposed under it, like every lie I was telling was written across my skin. But I kept my expression soft.

“See?” he said quietly, setting the tray down within reach. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

I nodded once, lowering my eyes again.

Inside, every instinct screamed.

But I swallowed it down, reminding myself-this wasn’t surrender.

He studied me as he set the tray down, his gaze sharp despite the calm tone. Beckett never stopped watching. Every movement, every breath-I could feel him measuring me, weighing the risk.

I thought through every move carefully.

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Chapter 79

If I lashed out, he’d tighten the leash.

If I demanded answers, he’d retreat into silence.

If I cried, he’d call it proof that I needed him.

So I did the last thing he expected.

I complied.

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“I’m tired,” I said quietly, letting my voice shake just enough to sound real. “My head still hurts. I don’t think I can even stand like this.” I let my eyes flick-briefly, subtly-to the shackle around my ankle.

A seed planted.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly-but I saw it.

The tight line of suspicion at the corner of his mouth eased. His shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. The careful watchfulness in his eyes softened into something warmer, something that looked like concern if you didn’t know how to read it. Concern threaded with relief.

I watched the change take hold in real time.

His gaze dropped briefly to the chain at my ankle, then back to my face, as if weighing me against it. The calculation was obvious now. He wasn’t asking himself whether I was safe.

He was asking himself whether I still needed to be restrained.

He crouched slightly, bringing himself to my level, his voice lowering into something almost tender. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said. “Anyone would be overwhelmed. That’s why I’m here.”

I nodded, letting my lashes dip, letting my hands curl weakly in my lap. I made myself look small. Breakable.

His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for me-and maybe he did. Not out of comfort, but reassurance. For himself.

“This is better,” he continued softly, more to the room than to me. “When you trust me.”

I replied with a forced smile.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” he said, crouching slightly. “You’ve been through enough”

I swallowed, nodding. “I know. I just… I don’t want to fight anymore, Beckett.” I hesitated, then added softly, “I trust you.”

The lie burned all the way down.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then his shoulders eased. Just a fraction.

“See?” he said, almost to himself. “This is what I’ve been trying to do the whole time. I was trying to protect you…us.”

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Chapter 79

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He stood and walked behind me, fingers brushing my hair in a way that made my skin crawl. “You don’t need restraints if you’re not going to hurt yourself.”

My heart hammered, but I kept my breathing slow. Steady.

Metal scraped against the floor.

The pressure around my ankle loosened.

When the shackle finally fell away, I almost gasped-but I caught myself just in time, forcing my body to remain still. Weak. Grateful.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled, satisfied, blind to the fire simmering just beneath my calm.

Because he thought he’d won.

And I let him believe it.

But I still didn’t have a concrete plan for how to escape this place. I didn’t know our location, didn’t know the layout beyond this room, and had no way of estimating how many people were outside or how often they rotated their watch. Every variable was missing, which made any move risky.

Still, him loosening the shackles was a start. I clung to that small mercy, hoping it meant something-that he might let his guard down now that I had shown my willingness to cooperate. Every movement he made, every breath he took, I watched closely, searching for cracks in his composure. If he believed I was no longer a threat, even for a moment, that hesitation could be all I needed.

Beckett lingered a moment longer, like he was waiting for me to ruin it. For the mask to slip. When it didn’t, when I stayed still and pliant and quiet, he seemed to relax fully for the first time since he’d entered the

room.

“Eat,” he said, nodding toward the tray. “I’ll be nearby.”

The door closed behind him with a soft, deliberate click-not locked, I noticed. Or maybe it was, and he just didn’t feel the need to announce it anymore. Either way, the sound echoed in my chest long after his footsteps faded down the hall.

Only then did I let myself move.

I reached for the soup first, hands trembling just enough to sell the aftermath of fear. The spoon clinked faintly against the bowl. Too loud. I paused, listening.

Nothing.

I ate slowly, forcing the food down even though my stomach twisted with nerves. I needed strength. Clarity. Hunger made mistakes more likely, and I couldn’t afford those. Not now.

As I ate, I mapped the room again with fresh eyes.

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Chapter 79

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The window was too high to reach without climbing onto the bed. The dresser against the far wall had one drawer slightly warped, its handle loose. The chair I’d been bound to-solid wood, heavy, but not bolted down. The door opened inward. Hinges on the left. No visible lock from inside.

Details. Anchors.

When I was done, I set the tray aside and leaned back, closing my eyes halfway, like exhaustion had finally claimed me. I let my breathing deepen, slowing into something that could pass for sleep if he checked on me.

Time stretched.

Minutes or hours-passed in fragments. Once, I heard footsteps pause outside the door. A shadow crossed beneath the frame. I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Eventually, the presence drifted away.

Good.

When the house settled into silence again, I slid my foot experimentally across the floor.

I stood slowly, every muscle protesting, blood rushing to my leg in a sharp, aching burn. I bit back a sound and steadied myself against the wall. Dizziness washed over me, but I rode it out, counting my breaths until the room stopped tilting.

I crossed to the door and rested my palm against it—not turning the handle yet. Just listening.

Then, I heard voices coming from a faint distance. It was Beckett. He was talking to a woman. I pressed my ear against the door, trying to get hold of their conversation.

I pressed my ear closer to the door, holding my breath.

At first, their voices were low-murmurs slipping through the narrow crack beneath the frame-but then the woman spoke again, sharper this time. Angry.

“What is she doing here?” she hissed. “This wasn’t what we agreed to.”

My pulse spiked.

Beckett answered in a calm voice, too calm-the measured, deliberate tone he used when he believed he still had the upper hand. The voice of a man convinced he could steer the outcome if he stayed steady enough.

“Lower your voice.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped back, venom sharp in every syllable. “We had a deal. You were supposed to take care of her. I don’t care what you do to her-but now you’re telling me she and Hunter already met?” Her breath hitched, fury breaking through. “I should have killed her a long time ago.”

My stomach tightened, a cold knot twisting deep inside me. So there was more-more history, more blood already written into this mess. Her words pressed in on me, heavy with intent, with regret not for what she’d done, but for what she hadn’t.

I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears as the weight of it settled. Whatever game Beckett thought he was playing, it was already far beyond his control. And whoever she was, she wasn’t speaking in hypotheticals.

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Chapter 79

:..

She was talking about a mistake she was ready to correct.

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Beckett exhaled slowly, the sound tight and controlled. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said. “I had it contained.”

“Contained?” she repeated, incredulous. “You let her breathe the same air as Hunter, and you think that’s contained?”

A sharp step echoed-closer to the door. Closer to me.

My shoulders went rigid as her voice dropped, losing its edge and becoming something far more dangerous. Calm. Certain. “You do realize what will happen if Hunter finds out about what we did to her-we’re dead. If she talks-if she even hints at what she knows-you won’t just lose her. You’ll lose everything.”

“I know the risks,” Beckett replied. “Which is why she’s here. It’s safer.”

“You think that’s safe? Do you think Hunter will sit still now that he knows she’s alive and that she’s missing?”

Silence stretched, thick enough that I could almost see it pressing between them. I imagined Beckett standing there, jaw clenched, weighing outcomes like numbers on a ledger. I imagined her watching him, waiting to see which side of the line he’d fall on.

Beckett’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he didn’t look away. “He won’t find her,” he said finally. “I’ll make sure of it.” His voice was low but steady, the kind that carried the weight of conviction- or of desperation trying to masquerade as control.

The woman’s laugh was short and bitter, and it sliced through the tension like glass. “You had no idea how dangerous Hunter is. And that’s the problem. That’s why people die.”

Her words hung in the air, venomous and sharp, and I felt the chill of them reach all the way to my bones. She wasn’t just angry-she was patient. Cold. Certain. Like she had already decided how this would end, and she didn’t care who objected.

“You’re hesitating,” she said, the edge in her voice softening into something deadly calm. “That’s good. Now you know the severity of the situation. Either she dies, or we all pay the price.”

Beckett’s eyes flicked downward, then back up. “I can protect her. I will protect her.”

“Words,” she said. “Cheap and empty. You’re running out of time.”

I pressed myself flat against the door, heart hammering, trying not to make a sound. Every word confirmed the truth I’d been trying to ignore. She wasn’t bluffing. She wasn’t negotiating. She wanted me dead. And if Beckett didn’t act, she would do it herself-without hesitation, without mercy.

“You bring her here,” she continued softly, almost like a promise. “And now, if you can’t handle your mistake, I will finish it. With my own hands.”

The footsteps faded down the hall, but the echo of her threat remained, reverberating through the room. I sank to the floor, hand on my ankle where the shackle had been. Freedom was only half a step ahead of danger, and I realized then that Beckett’s fragile calm was the only thing keeping her from walking back in and ending it all.

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Chapter 79

I had to survive long enough to make use of it.

And survival meant patience. Stealth. Waiting for the crack I could exploit.

Because the moment she returned, I knew there would be no second chances.

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