Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 707

Draven's capacity for destruction was worse than she'd imagined.

The Draven who'd lived with her at Westhaven for eight months was warm. Patient. Kind. That wasn't the man standing in front of her.

Deep down, a thread of genuine fear wound through Ayla. A fear she'd never felt with Troy. Troy scared her differently—she was afraid of his recklessness, afraid he'd lose control and swing at her. But she could dodge that.

This bone-deep chill, she only felt with Draven.

Why was she afraid?

Because she didn't know what came next.

Ayla suddenly couldn't tell anymore. Was the warmth Draven had shown her just another mask? Something designed to lower her guard?

And where was the line for his coldness? His ruthlessness?

Was this just about getting rid of Max?

Or, if someone pushed further—crossed a deeper line—would he escalate without hesitation?

Not just removing people from the room. Something worse.

Like what Troy had mentioned. The uncle incident.

Would Draven... actually kill someone?

Ayla knew she was spiraling because she was shaken. Thinking in extremes.

But it was everything Draven had done that put those thoughts in her head. She hadn't made them up.

Draven tugged lightly at her hand.

Ayla yanked it away on reflex, their hands parting with a sharp smack.

She stepped back.

Draven stared at the hand she'd slapped away. He looked like something inside him had broken. His brow creased. The hurt was right there on his face.

His hand curled into a fist.

"Ayla, it's me... You stepped back from me? Really?"

It had never occurred to him that Ayla could be afraid of him.

But then, he'd given her every reason to be.

Inside Draven, something feral had always been caged. A beast that wanted to tear through every obstacle by brute force.

If he let it loose, the damage would be more than he could bear. More than Ayla could bear.

Draven willed himself to think clearly. He'd just been... rattled. Seeing Ayla and Max together had set him off. That was all.

He was not a beast.

Ayla looked at the man in front of her—so familiar and so foreign at once. Her hands were shaking. "I don't even know how to be around you anymore. Draven, please. Just let me go. I don't have the energy for this."

He could block her from the world with his body alone.

And this was his territory. He could do whatever he wanted.

His silent approach only magnified the dread coiling in her chest.

She had no choice but to retreat.

But every step she took back, Draven took one forward.

Until Ayla hit the wall. Draven caged her in completely.

Her pupils shook. Part of her was thinking, This is Draven—he would never hurt me. The other part couldn't stop seeing the stranger, the terrifying unknown. Her heart was in her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes. Her gaze was all defense. But there were tears.

Draven looked like she'd broken him. "Ayla, do you really think I'd hurt you?"

Her voice trembled. "You... you wouldn't? Then why did you corner me against a wall..."

Just like last time. He'd kissed her by force, bit through her lip, and overwhelmed her completely.

Draven reached out and touched her face. His thumb traced beneath her eye—red veins threading through the white, dark circles she couldn't hide no matter how beautiful she was. Fatigue. Anxiety. Fear.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night. Sorry you had to walk in on Troy and me this morning. And now you're dealing with me alone..."

Midsentence, Draven scooped her up.

The moment he lifted her, he felt how much lighter she'd become.