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Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother novel Chapter 169

Update Chapter 169 of Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother by Internet

With the author's famous Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother series, Internet captivates readers with every word. Dive into chapter Chapter 169, where love anecdotes intertwine with plot twists and hidden demons. Will the next chapters of the Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother series be available today?
Key: Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother Chapter 169

KESTER.

She was still standing there. She fucking

Lood like she could fucking fix me.

The fear in her eyes faded too fast, dissolving into something worse. Something sickly.

Concern.

What was she? Kasmine? My mother? Some fucking saint who thought she could put me back together, piece by piece, like it was her duty?

“Kester,” She whispered, ignoring the blood dripping out of her face. She wasn’t healing just yet. How would she heal when the pieces of glass were still in her flesh, and all she

cared about was me?

She should have been backing away, pressing her hands to her wounds, pulling the shards. out–something, anything.

But no. She stood there.

She wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t flinch.

I wanted her to flinch.

I wanted her to stop looking at me like that… Like she could still see something in me that wasn’t already rotting.

Blood streaked down her cheek, down her arm, onto the floor–staining the fucking floor.

Like if she tried hard enough, if she held on long enough, I’d give a damn about

something other than wanting to tear her apart.

She reeked of rotten desperation.

A muscle jumped in my jaw. My fingers twitched. My skin burned, too tight over my

bones.

“Take a deep breath…” She said, and, fuck! No one told me June had become a therapist.

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Chapter 169

My breath shuddered out as I grabbed my phone from the table–fingers so tight around it my knuckles burned. And then-

CRACK.

The phone hit the wall. Pieces of it rained to the floor.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I counted my words through gritted teeth.

I took a step forward, and her whole body tensed. The stupid, desperate look in her eyes flickered, replaced by terror.

Perfect.

your

“Otherwise, your corpse won’t even make it home for a funeral,” I added coldly as I took another step, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her throat working.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” She trembled so terribly.

And when I’d given them what they wanted–when I smiled, when I nodded, when I played their fucking game–they signed me off as “stable.”

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