Semua Bab OFF LIMITS: Bab 11 - Bab 20

CHAPTER TWELVE POV: Zara Marcus held up his phone, the screen glowing like a courtroom exhibit, and Zara’s world narrowed to that single image. The green dress. Her in it, laughing at something Damon had said at his birthday party two months ago. His hand rested low on her waist—too low, too lingering—and the way he looked at her in the photo made her stomach drop straight through the floor. It wasn’t brotherly. It wasn’t friendly. It was hungry. And Marcus had seen it. “What’s this picture from the party?” Marcus asked again, brow furrowed deep, thumb scrolling like he might find answers in the pixels. “You and Damon look… close. Real close. When did this happen?” Zara’s fork clattered against her plate. Ryan’s hand tightened on her knee under the table, warm and trusting, while across from her Damon went completely still, his dark eyes locking onto hers for a split second that felt like forever. Camille leaned forward, blonde hair falling over one shoulder, her pretty face tight

CHAPTER FOURTEEN POV: Zara Marcus’s voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs, pulling Ryan back inside like a judge calling court to order. “Ryan, get in here. You need to see this too.” The front door clicked shut again, heavy footsteps on the hardwood. Zara’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it might crack them. She was still leaking Damon’s cum down her inner thigh, the evidence of their frantic fuck in the hallway closet mixing with the panic rising in her throat. The linen closet. The wall. His cock buried so deep while Marcus was right downstairs. She grabbed Damon’s sleeve in the dark hallway, fingers twisting the fabric. “The video. He has a video from the party. Damon, what if it shows everything? The way you looked at me. The way I looked back.” His eyes were wild in the low light, jaw clenched, but his hand found hers and squeezed once, hard, before letting go. “We deny it. Stick together. I’ve got you.” His voice was rough, low, that same tone he use

CHAPTER SIXTEEN POV: Zara Marcus’s headlights flooded the rearview mirror like accusing eyes, growing brighter, closer, relentless. Zara’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stayed straddled in Damon’s lap, his cock still buried deep inside her, twitching with the aftershocks of their frantic release. The car swerved slightly as Damon floored it, tires kicking up slush on the dark country road. Cum leaked out around where they were joined, soaking her thighs and his jeans, warm and sticky and so wrong in this moment of pure chaos. “Damon, he’s gaining on us!” she gasped, gripping his shoulders, her voice breaking between fear and the lingering pulse of pleasure deep in her core. Her leggings were shoved down around one ankle, sweater pushed up, breasts exposed to the cold air rushing through the cracked window. “What are we doing? We can’t outrun my brother like this. Pull over. Please.” Damon’s hands stayed locked on her hips, guiding her to keep moving even as he drove, slow

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN POV: Damon The knock on the motel door hit like a fist to the gut. Damon’s arm tightened around Zara’s waist, her naked body still pressed flush against his, skin sticky with sweat and the evidence of how many times he’d come inside her since they stumbled into this dingy room. The sheets smelled like cheap detergent and them—sex, tears, desperation. Her phone lay on the nightstand, that damning video paused on the screen, the texter’s words glowing like a lit fuse: Tell Marcus the truth about who sent the first text… “Who the hell is that?” Zara whispered, voice trembling as she sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. Her hair was a wild mess around her shoulders, eyes wide with fresh fear. Those same eyes that had looked up at him just minutes ago while she rode him slow and deep, whispering “I love you” between broken moans. Damon swung his legs off the bed, grabbing his jeans from the floor. His muscles coiled tight, the old scars—emotional and otherwise—fl

CHAPTER TWENTY POV: Zara The door handle turned with a slow, deliberate click that cut through the heavy silence like a knife. Zara clutched the sheet tighter to her chest, her body still humming from Damon’s release, thighs sticky and aching, his cum slowly drying on her skin. Her heart hammered so hard she felt it in her throat. Marcus and Ryan had just stormed out, leaving wreckage in their wake, and now this. Another shadow. Another twist in the nightmare they couldn’t escape. Damon moved fast, positioning himself between her and the door, muscles tense, that powerful frame coiled like he’d fight the whole world. “Stay behind me,” he growled low, voice rough with the same protective fire that had consumed her since the storm. The door creaked open. A woman stepped in—mid-twenties, dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, eyes sharp and familiar in a way that sent ice down Zara’s spine. It was Lena. Marcus’s ex from years ago. The one who’d always lingered at family gatherings, w