His Dark Obsession

Chapter 3 – Family Chains

Lily’s POV

THE MOMENT Jeremiah’s bike growled to a stop inside the compound gates, I felt the weight of a thousand ghosts pressing down on me. The air here carried the scent of old blood and engine oil, and even after years away, it still felt the same—like chains rattling around my throat.

And then I saw him.

Ronan.

My older brother stood at the top of the steps leading to the house, broad shoulders rigid, jaw cut from the same steel as our father’s. His dark hair was shorter than when I last saw him, military sharp, but his eyes—those storm-grey Brook eyes—burned with barely contained fury.

“Lily.” His voice was low, lethal. The kind of tone that once made grown men tremble.

I slid off Jeremiah’s bike, legs shaky from more than just the ride. My hair whipped loose from the wind, my dress still smelling faintly of Robert’s cologne and the sour sting of betrayal. For a heartbeat, I wanted to run—back down the road, back to anonymity, anywhere but here. But Ronan’s stare pinned me like a butterfly to a board.

He started down the steps. “What the f**k were you thinking, bringing her here?” His voice lashed across the yard, not at me—at Jeremiah.

Jeremiah didn’t flinch. He never did. He stood tall, one hand still on the handlebars of his bike, his eyes fixed on Ronan with that same quiet defiance that had once gotten him nearly beaten to death by my father. “She was walking into traffic, Ronan. Would you rather I leave her there to die?”

I bristled. “I wasn’t walking into traffic.”

Jeremiah’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t look at me. “Close enough.”

Ronan’s eyes flicked to me, narrowing. “You should never have left in the first place.”

Heat flared in my chest, the old Brook fire roaring back to life. “Excuse me?”

“You think running off with Hale was going to save you? You think leaving your blood, your family, meant you could cut yourself clean? You’re a Brook, Lily. You don’t get to run from that.”

I laughed—sharp, bitter, not even close to the quiet, polite tones I had practiced in Robert’s world. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I have stayed and rotted here instead? Become another broken piece in the wreckage after Father’s funeral? Watched you and the rest of them drown in vengeance while pretending we still had a family?”

The words hung like shattered glass in the air. Ronan flinched, just barely. The mention of Father still carved wounds too deep.

For a second, memory yanked me under.

I was sixteen again, standing in the rain as they lowered Father’s coffin into the ground. The church bells tolled, and Ronan stood beside me, fists clenched so tight his knuckles bled. Our mother had already disappeared by then, couldn’t handle the c*****e that followed Father’s empire crumbling. That day marked the end of us—the end of childhood, of safety, of any illusion that we could ever be normal.

I blinked back to the present, chest heaving. “I left because this place kills everything it touches. And I wasn’t going to be next.”

Ronan’s jaw flexed. “You left us to clean up the mess.”

“You mean you made sure no one could leave. You put the family in shackles and called it loyalty.”

“Enough.” Jeremiah’s voice cut through, deep and steady.

I turned to him, ready to scorch him too—but then his hand landed on my waist.

Just a touch. Barely pressure at all. But it sent a jolt through me so sharp I nearly staggered. His palm was warm, heavy, the calluses rough against the silk of my dress. It wasn’t intimate, not really. It was meant to ground me, to calm me down. But God help me, my body betrayed me in a single heartbeat.

I hated that I leaned back the smallest fraction. That my pulse jumped, traitorous and wild, at the solidity of him beside me.

His eyes caught mine for a flicker—dark, impenetrable, but steady. And for that sliver of a second, the chaos in my chest stilled.

I yanked away, furious at myself.

Ronan’s nostrils flared, his rage barely leashed. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“She’s safer here than on the street,” Jeremiah said flatly. “And safer with us than with him.”

The mention of Robert made bile rise in my throat. Ronan caught it instantly. “What did he do?”

The words clawed at my throat. For a moment, I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t say it out loud because to admit it was to admit the humiliation, the stupidity of believing Robert Hale was my escape.

Jeremiah answered for me, voice like gravel. “He betrayed her.”

Ronan’s eyes darkened, fury sparking like gunpowder. “I’ll kill him.”

“No,” I snapped, the word cutting sharply. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to treat me like a piece of property passed between men. I made the mistake. I’ll deal with it.”

His gaze whipped back to me. “You’re my sister. That makes you my responsibility.”

I laughed again, bitter fire in my throat. “Funny, I don’t remember electing you my jailer.”

We stood locked, storm against storm.

And then the gate clanged.

A prospect sprinted across the yard, panting, face pale. “Boss—news. Hale was spotted. He’s not alone. Cassian Dredge was with him.”

The name sucked all the air out of the compound. Even Jeremiah’s shoulders stiffened, his hand flexing once at his side like he was ready to reach for a weapon.

My blood iced. Cassian. That vulture had been circling the Brooks for years, waiting for weakness. If Robert was with him, that meant betrayal wasn’t just personal—it was war.

Ronan’s fury turned lethal. “Of course. That f*****g snake.”

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling despite my efforts to hide it. Robert hadn’t just walked away. He’d taken my humiliation and weaponized it. He’d chosen our enemy.

And for the first time since I’d stormed out of his bed, I realized just how dangerous my mistake really was.

Jeremiah’s eyes found mine across the yard. Dark, steady, unreadable. But in the silence between us, I swore I heard the unspoken words:

This is only the beginning.