My Billionaire king 264
Posted on March 18, 2025 · 1 mins read
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Chapter 264

I wasn’t scared. There was a time when I would have been. A time when just being near him, just hearing his voice, would have sent a chill down my spine. A time when I hated him, but fear overshadowed that hate, paralyzing me in ways I didn’t even understand back then. But that time had passed.

Now, as my eyes clashed with his in the rearview mirror, all I felt was cold, simmering rage.

“What is the meaning of this? Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice steady, controlled.

Dylan’s lips curled into a slow, smug smile. It wasn’t amused—it was taunting, laced with the arrogance of knowing he had the upper hand. “That’s your question?” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Not ‘Did I kill my uncle?’ Not ‘How did I manage to get into this car without anyone noticing?’ Or ‘What is happening back there?’”

My wolf stirred inside me, growling low and deep, scratching at the surface, ready to rip him apart. But I forced her down. Because I knew what this was. Whatever sick, twisted game he was trying to play, whatever reaction he was trying to get out of me, I wasn’t giving it to him. So I ignored his taunt. And I repeated, calmly, firmly, “Where are you taking me?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. It was just a flicker, so quick I might have imagined it. Then it returned, darker this time, full of something cruel and malicious. He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable as he said, “You know, when you and I were together, we never really got to do things together.” He let out a slow breath, almost like he was reminiscing. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? But don’t worry, Ava.” His grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “I’m making up for lost time. You and I? We’re going on a little trip.”

A trip. That was when I decided I’d had enough. I shut my eyes for a fraction of a second, reaching out with my mind, focusing my energy, reaching for Grayson. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. A sharp, unsettling sensation crawled down my spine. I clenched my jaw and reached out again, this time for Isabella, and felt the same emptiness. It was like I was screaming into a void. No connection. No link. No response.

Dylan let out another low laugh, this time completely devoid of humor. Like he knew exactly what I had just tried to do.

“Oh, Ava,” he said mockingly, shaking his head. “You really think I’d let you call for help?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern. “The car is spelled. Whatever little trick you were just attempting?” He smirked. “A waste of time.”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let the panic settle. Instead, I felt my wolf rise, fury burning through me like fire. My vision darkened as my eyes bled to black.

Dylan noticed. His gaze flicked to the mirror, and for the first time since this car started moving, something like caution flashed across his face. But he didn’t falter.

“If you shift,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, “I will drive us into the nearest tree. And I promise you, Ava, that your body might survive it—but those things inside you?” His smile stretched wider. “They won’t.”

My entire body went still. I forced my breathing to steady, forced my wolf down again. It wasn’t fear that made me listen—it was logic. A car crash wasn’t the way I was going to fight him. If I wanted to get out of this, I needed control. I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice colder now. “What the hell is this, Dylan? What do you want with me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, when he finally spoke, it was slow, deliberate—like he was savoring every single word.

“The same thing I’ve always wanted, Ava,” he murmured. “From the very beginning. From the moment I started all of this.”

He flicked his fingers in the air, and suddenly, a faint, eerie glow crackled around them—like remnants of magic slipping through his skin.

How—What the hell? And then I felt it. A sharp, jarring sensation in my chest, like something twisting, unraveling, pulling at a thread I hadn’t even known was there. I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind reeling as something—a memory, a sensation, a feeling—broke through the surface of my consciousness.

And then Dylan said it. The words that sent ice straight through my veins, “I used magic,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the hum of the engine, “to make you believe I was your fated mate.”

My entire body froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice. My breath caught in my throat as his words settled, as their meaning dug in, sharp and brutal. I had spent months—weeks—wondering why I had felt something for him when Grayson was my fated mate. Why I had been drawn to him. Why I had ignored the whispers in the back of my mind telling me something wasn’t right. And now, I had my answer. It had never been real. My connection to him. The bond I thought I had felt. It had never been real.

I barely noticed that I had stopped breathing until I exhaled shakily, barely managed to find my voice when I whispered, “What?”

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, crueler, like I couldn’t even begin to understand how much he was enjoying it.

“Anyway,” he said, almost casually, like we were discussing the weather instead of the fact that he had just admitted to manipulating my mind, “that’s not the focus right now.”

I gritted my teeth, my fingers curling into fists on my lap, nails pressing so hard into my skin that I could almost draw blood. Not the focus. I wanted to rip him apart. I wanted to throw myself over the seat, grab him by the throat, and make him focus on it—make him tell me why. Why he did it. Why he had gone so far. But I didn’t. Because I knew Dylan. I knew he wanted a reaction from me. He was waiting for it, anticipating it, feeding off the tension, the fury, the confusion rolling through me in waves like he used to feed off my fear of him. So I swallowed it down. For now.

“We’ll get to it,” he continued, his voice light, almost pleasant. Like we were two old friends having a conversation, like there wasn’t a deep, gut-wrenching rage clawing at my chest. “But first…” He glanced at me again through the mirror, and something flickered in his expression, something dark and gleeful. “I suppose you’re wondering how I managed to pull all that is happening at the wedding now.”

I said nothing. Not because I didn’t have questions—I had a million—but because I knew that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted me to ask. To feed into whatever sick satisfaction he got from explaining how he had gotten to this point. But Dylan was never the type to wait. Whether I asked or not, he was going to tell me.

He tapped his fingers against the wheel again, the motion slow, deliberate. “This particular plan started working itself out when I heard about Isabella’s wedding.”

At the mention of her name, his voice took on a sneering edge, dripping with disdain.

“I have to admit, I was a little shocked,” he continued, his mouth twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “She is so irritating that I never imagined her and that bastard Rickon would actually go through with it.”

My jaw clenched, but still, I said nothing.

Dylan exhaled, like he was enjoying dragging this out, savoring my confusion. “You see,” he continued, “my uncle never expected any of you to get this far. He was always so sure of himself, so confident that he had everything under control.” His smile turned sharper. “And that’s where he slipped up.”

I inhaled sharply, my fingers digging into my palms.

Dylan’s voice dropped, taking on an almost casual tone, like he was talking about the weather. “I watched. I waited. And the moment he started slipping…” His smile widened. “I struck.”

Something in my stomach twisted violently. Dylan turned his head slightly, watching me in the mirror, gauging my reaction. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he said, “Well—Crystal did.”


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