Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86; Nightmare

Chapter 86: Nightmare

The air felt cold as Grace stood in the middle of the Blackwood estate’s grand hallway, but something was wrong. The lights were flickering and there were shadows against the walls. It felt siffocating to her throat as if something was preventing her from breathing.

Then she heard a soft, wet dripping sound.

She turned her head slowly as dread curled around her ribs like a vice.

At the far end of the hall, a figure stood, barely visible under the dim light.

Grace’s breath hitched as she recognized who it was. Her sister was facing away from her, her once–beautiful white dress was now stained with deep crimson as the fabric clung to her body like had been soaked through. The metallic scent of blood filled the air making Grace’s stomach twist violently,

She tried to take a step forward, but her feet felt heavy, as if the floor itself was pulling her down.

“Faith?”

Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

The figure remained motionless.

Then, slowly, with an unnatural stiffness, Faith turned.

The sight made Grace’s stomach drop.

Faith’s face was pale, unnaturally so, and her lips were a sickly shade of blue. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, and dark circles etched beneath them as if she had been awake for days. And then there was the blood, so much blood, seeping from the fabric covering her swollen belly, the deep wound gaping, torn flesh exposing something that should have never been seen.

The baby.

Or what should have been a baby.

“Faith…” Grace’s voice trembled as she forced herself to move. She reached forward as her instinct began kicking in, wanting and needing to touch her, to help her, to stop whatever horror was unfolding in front of her.

But the moment she stepped closer, Faith’s lifeless eyes snapped to hers, locking onto her with an intensity so sharp that Grace froze in place.

“You did this,” Faith whispered.

The words sent a violent chill down Grace’s spine.

“I-“Grace shook her head, her pulse hammering painfully against her ribs. “No, I—”

“You let me die,” Faith’s voice rose not from anger. Not sorrow. But pure, consuming hatred.

The lights flickered wildly now, and the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. The were walls closing in, suffocating, and trapping her in a nightmare she could not escape from.

“You walked away,” Faith continued, her bloodied hands trembling as they cradled her mangled stomach. “You left me. You left

1. us.

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Something shifted beneath the torn flesh of her belly, a grotesque movement that sent nausea rolling

igh Grace’s stomach.

A tiny, lifeless hand pushed against the gaping wound from inside fingers curling slightly before slipping back into the darkness,

“No,” Grace’s voice broke, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. I–I didn’t mean to-

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Chapter 86: Nightmare

Faith took a step forward, her bare, blood soaked feet smearing re across the floor.

You should have died instead of me.”

Grace felt something shatter inside her.

+25 BONUS

Faith took another step as her expression began twisting. “You should have been the one buried. Not me. Not my baby”

The sound of a heartbeat echoed through the hallway too loud, too fast, too wrong. It pounded in Grace’s skull, matching the erratic rhythm of her own pulse. Her breathing quickened and her hands were shaking as she stepped backward, her back slamming against the cold wall.

“Faith, please,” she gasped, but her sister was no longer listening

Faith’s hands moved from her stomach to her throat, her nails digging into her own skin as she tilted her head. “You don’t get to beg. You don’t get to live.”

Her voice warped, distorted, turning into something monstrous.

“Give it back,” she rasped, her body convulsing as blood poured from her mouth. “Give me back my life!”

The walls began to bleed. The ceiling cracked open like torn flesh.

The tiny, lifeless hand from her belly reached out again, this time grabbing onto Faith’s fingers, pulling, dragging her downward.

And then she screamed.

Not just Faith but Grace.

She screamed so loudly, so violently, that the entire world around her shattered.

And then she bolted upright in bed, gasping as her entire body trembled uncontrollably. Cold sweat clung to her skin. Her breath was ragged and her chest was heaving as though she had been running for her life.

Her hands curled into the sheets, gripping them tightly as if they were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. But even now, even awake, she could still hear her sister’s voice.

Her breathing hitched, and before she could stop it, a sob tore from her throat.

Grace buried her face in her shaking hands, her body wracked with silent cries as her fear and her guilt settled deep into her bones. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as she began frantically looking around her room. Her wide, panic–stricken eyes darted to every corner as if expecting to still see her.

The nightmare still clung to her, refusing to let go even as she forced herself to take in her surroundings. The familiar walls of her bedroom, the faint sunlight seeping through the curtains–it were all real.

But so was the terror still clawing at her chest.

Her fingers trembled as she pushed damp strands of hair from her face. Her entire body was still shivering from the aftershocks of the dream. Her throat was dry anraw, as if she had actually screamed out loud.

She swallowed thickly and turned her head toward the clock on the nightstand and realized it was already past noon.

And so she forced herself up and dragged her aching body toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and exhausted as dark circles shadowed her hollow eyes. She slowly straightened her posture and smoothed her expression, forcing herself to put on the mask she had perfected over the years.

utopilot, selecting

With a deep breath, she turned away from the mirror and walked toward her closet. It was as if she move clothes without thought, dressing quickly as if keeping her hands busy would keep the nightmares at bay. Once she was done, she ran a hand through her hair, exhaled sharply, and stepped out of her room.

She began to walk downstairs and as she reached the bottom of the staircase, voices drifted into her ears, coming from the

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Chapter 86: Nightmare

sitting room. She glanced in their direction and immediately spotted them.

+25 BONUS

Her father, Bartholomew Blackwood, sat with Marco. Their conversation was deep enough that neither of them noticed her at first. Marco was leaning slightly forward, his elbows on his knees, is brows furrowed as he listened intently.

But the moment Grace entered the room, Marco noticed her.

His body tensed, and before he even seemed to think about it, he stood. His sharp gaze swept over her, scanning, assessing searching her if she was okay.

She did not care.

Without acknowledging either of them, she walked straight past as if they did not exist.

Marco took a step forward, almost as if to follow, but Bartholomew’s voice cut through, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let her be.”

His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “You are not her bodyguard. She is old enough to do things by herself.”