Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 141

Chapter 141: Her Hatred Forces My Hand

Jannah slowly turned her eyes back to meet his gaze, her smile devoid of warmth. "Forget it, Dorrent. You can’t do them. Your arrogant nature wouldn’t even allow you to comprehend what they mean. You only know how to take."

Dorrent stared at her for a long beat before he slowly stood up from the bed, adjusting his wrinkled shirt.

"Fine," he delivered coldly."Believe whatever you want. But let me make this very clear to you: I will never allow you to get marked by anyone else. Even if it requires me to lock you up in this estate and chain you to my bed for the rest of your days, I will do so. I will keep you caged until the day my system figures out how to mark your gland."

Jannah let out a dry, bitter laugh, a sigh rolling past her lips. "See? See that right there? That is exactly what I am talking about. A dictator and a pathetic manipulator... that is all you are."

"I don’t mind becoming exactly that for you," Dorrent said smoothly, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dark devotion as he looked down at her. "If being a dictator is the only way I can force you to stay by my side, then I will wear the title gladly."

The final wall of Jannah’s resistance completely crumbled. An uncontrollable trembling took over her frame as she looked at the magnificent, terrifying S-tier Alpha standing over her. She felt completely defeated, entirely swallowed by the wealth and power of the Grefo empire. The realization that she couldn’t even escape through a marked bond broke her heart into a million pieces.

She turned onto her side, shielding her casted arm as she buried her face into the pillow, her shoulders shaking as weeping tears finally flooded her face.

"Please..." Jannah sobbed, her voice a tiny, pathetic whimper that sounded completely broken. "Please, Dorrent... won’t you even allow me to go and see my grandfather in the ghetto tonight? I am begging you... I just need someone to talk to. I can’t stay in this room right now."

Dorrent stood still, his features softening as he watched her weep. An unfamiliar pang of guilt twisted somewhere in his chest. He slowly leaned down, sitting on the edge of the mattress, and extended his hand. His thumb gently wiped away the hot tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

"I’m sorry, Jannah," Dorrent murmured, his voice surprisingly soft, almost gentle, as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. "I can only be manipulative and cruel when it comes to you... because you hate me very much. Your hatred forces my hand."

He took a deep breath, standing back up and reaching for a clean towel from the stand. "Get up. I’ll take you to your grandfather’s place right now."

Dorrent stood by patiently as she gathered herself, then helped wipe her clean of the sticky arousal, his touch unusually respectful as he avoided lingering on her sensitive areas. Because the midnight air in the lower districts was notoriously damp and freezing, he went to the closet and pulled out a heavy, thick wool coat and a pair of warm boots, carefully helping her slide her left arm into the sleeve while draped gently over her casted right side to protect it from the elements.

They walked out of the silent estate through the private side exit, avoiding Guron and Himelda entirely. They climbed into his luxury transport, the powerful engine roaring to life before they cruised out of the gates of the estate, descending rapidly into the dark, smog-choked labyrinth of the lower sectors.

This time, as the vehicle rumbled over the cracked asphalt toward the slums, Dorrent didn’t lean back carelessly. His hands gripped the steering wheel with intensity, his sharp eyes tracking every single dark alleyway, every rooftop, and every shadowy corner they passed. He was on high alert, his S-tier sensory matrices pushed to their limits, watching out for any signs of the ambush that had left her shot and bleeding the last time they took this route.

He glanced over at the passenger seat. Jannah was leaning her head against the cold glass of the window, her eyes staring blankly at the neon-lit filth of the ghetto streets flying past. She looked so small, so devastatingly fragile inside the wool coat.

But she didn’t hear him. She ran straight up the stone steps, her left hand pushing the broken wooden door wide open as she burst into the dim, shadowy interior of the small house.

"Grandpa?!" Jannah screamed, her voice piercing the quiet room.

The sight that met her eyes inside the narrow living space instantly shattered her world.

Duro was lying flat on his back on the cold, uneven floorboards beside the rickety wooden table. His frail, elderly body was convulsing, his limbs jerking in horrific, erratic spasms as a thick, frothy white fluid poured continuously from the corners of his mouth, staining his gray beard. His eyes were rolled back into his head, showing only the whites, his breathing turning into a rattle.

Clutched tightly in his trembling, rigid left hand was a crumpled piece of scrap paper filled with smudged ink lines.

Jannah’s knees gave out beneath her weight. She crashed onto the floor beside his shaking frame, her left hand reaching out to cradle his freezing face as her vision blurred into terror.

"Grandpa!!! No! No, no, no! Please, Grandpa, wake up!" Jannah shrieked, her voice cracking into a wail . "Grandpa, look at me! No!!!"