Chapter 152- Stubborn Bitch
Declan's POV
She looked at like a scared little animal—eyes wide, lips trembling, like she'd seen a ghost.
"What do you an?" she asked in a shaky voice.
But I didn't answer her.
Not because I didn't have the words, but because her question was stupid. She knew what I ant. She just wanted to play dumb and act confused like always. This wasn't the ti for silly gas or soft talk. The more she pushed, the more my anger rose.
If she kept talking, I swear, I'd add her na to the list of people I need to kill.
"I'm sorry for asking," she said quickly, her voice cracking like glass. "I'm just really confused and scared and I need to understand. Please, Declan. Don't leave hanging like this. Please talk to ."
She pleaded like her words could cool the fire in . Like begging would make calm down.
She didn't know that the more she begged, the more pissed off I got.
I turned slowly and looked at her. I couldn't hide the disgust on my face.
I saw her differently now. All I could see in my head was her in bed with him—my bodyguard. David. That bastard.
He touched her. He was inside her.
He fucked her.
That thought alone made my blood boil.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to break sothing.
Hell, I wanted to find him and shoot him point-blank in the skull.
How dare he?
How dare he touch what belongs to ?
Yes, we're no longer together—but I don't care. She's still mine. Nobody is supposed to touch her. Nobody is allowed to fuck her. If I'm not the one doing it, then she shouldn't be touched at all.
She should've stayed celibate forever. That was the deal. In my head, at least.
But no. That bastard touched her. Took her body. Played with her heart. Lied to her. And then stole from her—every single penny.
I gave her that money from my own hands. Not for her to go chasing dick, not for her to fall in love with so random guy off the street. I gave it to her so she could be safe. So she could rest. So she could stop struggling. I gave it for Tyler. So both of them could be good. Stable.
But she let it all go—because of sex?
Because of one lying dick?
She told him everything. Her life story. Her pain. Her trauma. She opened herself up like she always does—so damn easily.
How dumb could she be?
Is sex really that sweet?
Is that what made her throw everything away? That sweet talk? That "I love you" bullshit?
She doesn't learn. That's the problem. She never fucking learns.
She always falls too fast, too deep, too stupid.
When she loves, it's like she turns off her brain. It's like the mont soone gives her a little attention, she forgets everything she's been through. Every betrayal. Every heartbreak.
Just like the first ti.
She fell hard for a loser back in the day. I warned her to leave him but she didn't.
I didn't regret killing him. Not for one second.
He was never good for her. Just like this one. Just like every single one.
She always thinks love ans loyalty.
She doesn't know that people lie.
She doesn't see how weak she becos when she's in love.
One little kiss and her whole life is on the line. One nice voice and she's handing over her heart—and now, her damn money.
All because of dick.
I was so deep in thought, so angry, so far gone in my mind that I didn't notice her hand waving in front of my face.
Then—snap!—she clapped her hand right in front of my eyes.
"Co back!" she said.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Like I was so kid daydreaming in class.
I blinked, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I turned my eyes toward her, fire burning behind them.
She had no idea how dangerous it was to snap at like that.
"You want to chop off your hand?" I asked, my voice low and cold.
"Ughhh... ughhh... no, no, no—I didn't an it like that. I didn't an any of that," she rushed her words, her voice breaking with fear. "I didn't an to get you angry."
I slowly turned back to look at her.
"That wasn't what I asked you, Beatrice," I said, my voice calm but sharp like a knife pressed to skin. "The question I asked was—do you want to chop off your hands? That's it. A simple question that needs a simple answer. Yes or no."
She opened her mouth to say sothing again—another explanation probably, another useless excuse—but I raised a finger.
"Don't start. I'll ask you again. And this ti, think very well before you open your mouth." I leaned forward slightly. "Do you want to chop off your hands?"
Her eyes widened and she quickly bowed her head. "No, no, please... I don't want you to chop off my hands."
"Good," I said, coldly. "Then don't bring that hand anywhere near my face again."
She nodded quickly, lips trembling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't an to bring it close. It's just that... you weren't answering , and I thought you were ignoring on purpose. I didn't know you zoned out. I only wanted to bring you back."
Bring back? Who the hell told her I needed bringing back? Who told her that she had the right to reach into my mind like that?
She's starting to do too much. Talking too much. Acting like she has rights.
She's forgetting who I am.
She's forgetting who she's talking to.
If she keeps going like this, I swear I'll remind her—and not with words.
She needs to be put back in her place.
And if she refuses to do it herself, then I'll do it for her.
I didn't say another word. I just turned around to leave the room.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
I ignored her.
"Declan... where are you going to? Please just answer . Are you going to look for Tyler?"
She asked again, her voice rising. She was pushing it.
I stopped walking.
I turned halfway and looked at her like she was the dumbest person alive.
"Were you deaf when I told soone to get a gun?" I asked, my tone slow and sharp. "Or is that tiny brain of yours too small to understand what that ans?"
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