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, smell that cologne I hated but still remembered. I never thought I'd see him this close to me again. Not like this. Not after everything.

I shut my eyes.

Tight.

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

But when I opened them...

He was still there.

Still standing. Still watching me 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 me... it didn't even feel normal. It was too intense. Like he was looking right through me. Right into my soul. Like he knew what I was thinking, what I feared, what I was trying to bury deep inside me.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't blink.

He didn't move.

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

I finally found the strength to say something.

"Let me go," I whispered.

I thought I said it loud.

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

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

My heart skipped.

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

His voice was low, mocking, cruel.

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

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

"I thought you were going to pounce on me?" 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 came out. I was stuck.

Like someone tied me 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 remember I'm not the same 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 me 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 me 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 me 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 me half-naked?

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

Who the hell does he think he is?

My lips started to tremble—not with fear this time, 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 mean I fear you. It means I'm tired. It means I've held too much for too long, and for a moment, 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 me, cornering me, thinking he still had the power to break me down like before.

Who gave him the right to come this close?

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

Who told him he still mattered?

No. He doesn't. Not anymore.

He is nothing to me.

He is shit.

And I've had it. I've had it with the fear, the guilt, the silence. It's time he heard it. From me. 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 some 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 me. You are shit to me. So kill that idea you have in your head—the one that tells you I'm still yours or that you can touch me whenever you want. Kill it now, Declan. Burn it. Bury it. Because I'm done."

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

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

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