Chapter 1271:
She tilted Brad’s face upward and saw his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open, his awareness slipping away by the second. His breathing was shallow and uneven. Her brows drew together as she turned to Phil. “The neurotoxin is flaring up again. What happened?”
Phil spoke quickly. “The confidential trading files for Havenridge Group’s major clients were held only by Luther and Kari. Brad took a massive gamble trying to secure them.”
Rylie guided Brad into the bedroom and examined him carefully. After questioning Phil about what he had taken, her expression tightened with concern.
“It’s a hallucinogen that amplifies desire,” she said gravely. “But given his current nerve condition, any antidote could cause severe neurological damage.”
Phil froze, clearly shaken. “He can’t take antidotes? And there are that many complications?” The full weight of it landed on him, and panic crept into his voice. “So what do we do now?”
Rylie paused, her lips tightening briefly before she spoke. “You can leave. I’ll handle it from here.”
Phil understood exactly what she was implying, and he wasn’t comfortable with it. “Rylie, you’re pregnant. Maybe I should call someone—hire a professional to take care of this instead?”
Rylie’s eyes sharpened into a glare. “Excuse me?”
ѕ𝗵𝖺𝘳𝗲 𝘆𝘰𝗎𝗿 f𝘢𝘃o𝘳𝗶𝘁𝘦s 𝖿𝗿𝗼𝗆 𝘨𝗮𝘭𝘯ov𝘦𝗹ѕ.𝖼𝘰𝗺
Phil immediately pressed his lips together. “Right. I’m going.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and Rylie began undoing her buttons. She had barely made any progress before Brad seized her, turning her around and pinning her firmly against the bedroom door.
Her back hit the wood with a hard thud—enough to make her gasp, but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her how much tension he was barely keeping under control.
Brad braced his palms against the door on either side of her head, his muscles rigid, veins standing out starkly beneath his strained skin. His body shook as he bent closer, his hot breath sliding across her neck—like a wild creature battling its own instincts, holding itself back by sheer will.
“Rylie.” His voice cracked, rough and uneven, his jaw clenched tight. “No… get some rope. Tie me down.”
Just as the first time they had crossed paths, she would have to restrain him so he could endure the torment alone, without putting anyone else at risk.
Brad tried to pull back, tried to insist she bring the rope—but his body refused to obey. The drug tore through his bloodstream, burning through his reason and leaving behind nothing but raw, reckless hunger.
Still, he refused to give in.
A single, thin thread of clarity was all that kept him grounded. She was carrying his child. Nothing mattered more than keeping them safe.
But Rylie had no intention of tying him down.
She didn’t step back. Instead, she raised her hands and cradled his face gently, guiding his eyes toward hers.
His eyes were red and glassy, as though they might burst at any moment—pupils blown wide, his grip on sanity hanging by the thinnest of threads.
“Brad.” Her voice remained calm and steady. “Look at me.”
He breathed hard, his throat working, his Adam’s apple jerking with each strained breath.
“You’re not going to hurt me.”
.
.
.