His After The Heartbreak (BL) Chapter 156: Trapped

Chapter 156- Trapped

Beatrice POV

I swallowed hard.

My throat was dry like I hadn't had water in days. My chest was rising and falling too fast, and my legs felt too weak to move. It was almost like I was dreaming.

No... not dreaming. Nightmaring.

Declan was standing so close. Too close.

So close I could feel his body heat, sll that cologne I hated but still rembered. I never thought I'd see him this close to again. Not like this. Not after everything.

I shut my eyes.

Tight.

Wishing—begging—everything around would fade. That he would disappear like a bad mory. That I'd open my eyes and he'd be gone.

But when I opened them...

He was still there.

Still standing. Still watching like a hunter who already knew his prey had nowhere left to run.

It wasn't a dream.

It was real.

Declan was real.

And the way he was staring at ... it didn't even feel normal. It was too intense. Like he was looking right through . Right into my soul. Like he knew what I was thinking, what I feared, what I was trying to bury deep inside .

He didn't say a word.

He didn't blink.

He didn't move.

Just stood there—his eyes fixed on , his lips slightly curved in that annoying, smug, seductive way that always used to ss with my head.

I finally found the strength to say sothing.

"Let go," I whispered.

I thought I said it loud.

I really thought I yelled it, but it ca out so small... like a broken plea. I hated how weak it sounded.

"And if I don't?" he asked , stepping even closer.

My heart skipped.

"What are you going to do, Beatrice? Throw those little fists of yours at ? Go on. Try it."

His voice was low, mocking, cruel.

"I dare you, Beatrice. Do your worst. Didn't you say I couldn't co near you? Look at . I'm here. What now?"

I took a shaky breath, my hands trembling by my sides.

"I thought you were going to pounce on ?" he added. "Or don't you have the heart anymore? Did you lose your fire?"

He leaned in a little. "Are you scared now?"

I opened my mouth, but no words ca out. I was stuck.

Like soone tied down and pressed pause on my body while my mind kept racing. I blinked—once, twice—trying to pull myself out of the trance. Trying to act brave, trying to rember I'm not the sa woman he used to hurt.

But nothing worked.

I was frozen.

My heart was screaming, but my mouth couldn't follow.

So I did the only thing I thought might get out of this.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"I'm sorry for daring you. It won't happen again," I promised, and I hated how my voice shook with fear. "I swear, Declan. I won't disrespect you or talk back. Please... just let go."

There was silence. Long, thick silence. I couldn't even hear my own breathing anymore.

Then he spoke.

"And how about I don't let you go?"

I lifted my head, and everything in boiled.

What the hell did he just say?

How about I don't let you go?

Is this man mad?

Is it because I allowed him into my house?

Because he saw half-naked?

Is that what's giving him the guts to speak to like that?

Who the hell does he think he is?

My lips started to tremble—not with fear this ti, but with pure anger.

How dare he?

Was it because I shut my eyes for one damn second and he thought I was afraid of him?

Afraid of him?

That useless, abusive, lying bastard?

That motherfucking bastard?

You really think I'm scared of you, Declan?

You think because I froze or looked away that I'm weak?

I'm not scared of you.

And I never will be.

Because I chickened out for a second doesn't an I fear you. It ans I'm tired. It ans I've held too much for too long, and for a mont, I was trying to protect my sanity.

You're not worth the fear.

You're not worth anything.

I whispered those words to myself because I didn't have the courage to say them out loud. Not yet. Not when he was standing there, breathing down my neck, thinking he owned the air I breathed.

But should I say it?

Should I just say it to his damn face?

Because he was really getting on my last nerve. He was pushing , cornering , thinking he still had the power to break down like before.

Who gave him the right to co this close?

Who told him he could whisper in my ear like he owned ?

Who told him he still mattered?

No. He doesn't. Not anymore.

He is nothing to .

He is shit.

And I've had it. I've had it with the fear, the guilt, the silence. It's ti he heard it. From . From my mouth. From the woman he thought he could crush forever.

I took a breath and faced him fully.

"You know what, Declan?" I said, my voice sharper than I expected. "You really have so nerve thinking I still give a damn about you."

He raised a brow, but I didn't stop.

"As a matter of fact, I give zero fucks about you. You are nothing to . You are shit to . So kill that idea you have in your head—the one that tells you I'm still yours or that you can touch whenever you want. Kill it now, Declan. Burn it. Bury it. Because I'm done."

I was breathing hard now, but I kept going. My hands were shaking, but my voice stayed steady.

"If you think you can break again, think twice. Because if you try to lay a hand on , if you think choking or threatening is going to make fold—do it. Kill . Beat . Choke . Do whatever makes you feel like a man."