Welcome to Hell (by Williane Kassia) novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Magnus Hale

I wanted to scream, to open my mouth and say that it isn’t. That

inside me, insecurity devours me like fire. But that’s my problem.

Adrian has already given me his answer; he’s already made it clear

how much he loves me. It’s up to me to win this internal war, not him.

I force a slight lopsided smile, trying to hide it.

“Yeah. I’m just exhausted. Let’s eat.”

His gaze changed, darkening suddenly, as if he had sensed my lie.

Instead of pressing me, he just curls his lips into a light, serene smile.

“Of course, love. Let’s eat.”

He begins to eat and doesn’t let go of my hand. I do the same,

chewing in silence, trying to quiet this head that won’t stop. Each

forkful is an effort to fake normalcy, to push this nervousness down

into my chest.

Suddenly, I feel a gaze pierce my skin like a hot blade. I lift my eyes

without thinking and find Navarro. His crooked, hard face glares at

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me with hatred, his eyes gleaming with rage just seeing me here,

breathing.

It’s almost funny. He must be eating himself up inside because he

can’t accept that I’m still standing, even after that bullshit time he humiliated me, back when I hadn’t accepted Adrian and the irritation

with my own life was only dragging me down further.

Now it’s different. I’m here, steady, and it seems like that poisons him

even more.

I stare back, giving him a dry, sharp smirk–more of an insult than a

greeting. I stay quiet, only moving my lips slowly: “What is it, you

piece of shit?”

He reads it, of course. His face grows even more closed off, rage

darkening everything. I don’t miss the chance: I let out a short laugh,

almost a huff, more irritated than amused.

Navarro always thought he was superior to everyone. I never sent him

to the other side because he had his uses; I liked keeping him alive

for fun, just to see how far his patience would go.

But if this son of a bitch thinks I’m going to swallow his provocations for annoying me, he’s dead wrong. I’m going to use all this frustration

on him: let the anger burn and consume him.

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Adrian’s grip on my hand moves up to my wrist, far too strong,

making me look away.

I feel his fingers close as if they wanted to trap me. I look up and find

a cold face observing me.

“Don’t look at anyone else, my love.” His voice comes out short and

tense. “It bothers me.”

He loosens the grip and slowly runs his thumb over the back of my

hand, a gesture almost careful that contradicts his rigid expression.

“Eat your food so you can rest,” he adds, without taking his eyes off

mine.

My chest tightens uncomfortably, knowing that I ended up bothering

Adrian. It gnaws at me from the inside.

And what irritates me most is the ease he has in saying what bothers

him–direct, no runaround–while I swallow these jealous feelings in

silence, brooding until I almost suffocate.

I let out a heavy sigh, trying to ease this shit inside me.

“Fine,” I answer dryly and go back to eating, focusing on the taste of

the food as if that were enough to distract me.

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I completely ignore the burn of Navarro’s gaze fixed on me. Compared

to Adrian’s, his doesn’t scare me at all. Because the eyes beside me

don’t look away, don’t blink, and don’t give me a break.

Damn it… where did that soft boy from a few minutes ago go?

I finish eating, and as soon as I push the tray away, Adrian stands up slowly, his gaze fixed on me–intense, firm, almost suffocating.

“Shall we, my love?” he asks, without looking away.

I just nod and stand up too. He takes my hand, intertwines our fingers, and we head out of the mess hall. The silence between us weighs more than any word. His expression doesn’t change–cold, impassive–and it leaves me restless.

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