All Chapters of Devoured By His Enemy Eyes: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The woman is visibly agitated as she paces around the beautifully decorated room, her eyes shifting from the wall clock to her phone lying on the bed every three minutes. The maids don't dare approach her in this mood except they're begging for a whip or their abrupt maiming. Back and forth she paces the length of a guest room as agitation simmers into murderous rage. The phone rings and she answers with a little difficulty. “Is it true?” She demands, her voice high with emotion. “Uh…” The man stammers. “Answer my goddamn question!” She screams into the phone. “We entered the doctor's office but before we could grab him, he began convulsing.” Another male answers. “Useless! The bunch of you are useless!” “My apologies Mistress, do you need us for something else?” “Yes, shoot that coward. Make sure to aim where it hurts.” “Yes, Mistress.” She ends the call and her rage overtakes her as drawers are pulled out, the round table smashed in, the TV upside down with two holes pro

JOJO'S POV This would be the second event of my life I'd have to wear black as the standard dress code but not today. I pick up the red silk from a rack of high priced and tagged clothes and Kendrick gasps. “You're going to wear that?” “I'm thinking about it.” “You do know it's an all-black event right, being a funeral and all.” Mallory quips from a rack filled with suits. “Yeah, and what the hell are you doing over there, Mal?” Kenny asks in exasperation. “Am I not allowed a suit? Not even a Black one?” “Get out of there Mal, that idea isn't even funny!” Kenny stomps over and grabs Mallory by the ear then she does the same to me. She grabs us both by the ears and walks us out of the shop. “Honestly, you both are the worst to shop with.” “You wanna go on a tech date?” Mallory says out of nowhere and we stop to look at her. “Whaaaaaaaaaat?” “Spill!” Kendrick and I yell, earning shocked and disturbed glances from passersby. And she shushes us up and drags us to a nearby ea

JOJO'S POV I'm wearing my favorite hoodie— I might’ve picked it from Jeremy’s closet— and am currently waiting hiding near the ticket counter at the airport when a finger taps my shoulder from behind. “Hola!” a voice shouts, making me jump in fright. “Jeez Kendrick!” Mallory whisper-yells at her and I turn to both of them. “What are you two doing here?” I demand. They were supposed to buy the tickets online and send me the numbers and I've been here, hiding around the counter waiting for the woman to call my name and also trying not to look too suspicious to the hundreds of cops crawling over every nook and cranny of the airport. I feel like a freaking addict in the middle of a dope test. “To deliver the tickets,” Kendrick says with a smile. She's wearing a yellow puff jacket, a head warmer, a cashmere turtle sweater under the puff jacket, thick boyfriend jeans, snow boots, and mittens. All yellow. And I'm gaping as I ask her, “What are you wearing?” “Something warm.” She t

Maxim had trapped Kila and he needed that unyielding son of his to understand there was no escape. His son had woken up three days after the surgery and was speedily recovering to the point that he was able to bang on the soundproof door of his cell room and scream profanities at the cameras blinking at him from the top corner of the room. Kila was held down protected in one of Maxim's numerous safe houses which was an abandoned warehouse that had been furnished to look like a comfy residential apartment with plush art paintings, expensive burgundy rugs, and beautiful furniture but Kila was limited to traipse one part of the house, his room which was constantly surveyed and monitored from the different CCTV cameras positioned in different corners of his room. To say Kila was pissed when he woke up strapped to the bed like a mental patient would be putting it lightly. He broke the doctor's nose and proceeded to injure the first two guards who tried to restrain him until he was held

JOJO'S POV Hangovers are the worst. I wake up in a dark room to see a double silhouette looming over me. My unfocused eyes try to take in my surroundings but I can't see past the figure in front of me. A finger lightly traces my freckles and goosebumps skitter across my skin at the cold touch. I blink hard, trying to see through the one in front and my nostrils flare at the scent of the one before me. Jeremy? A hand is extended towards me and I hesitate to take it so the figure leans to my ears. “It's me.” “Jeremy?” “Yes,” The figure draws back only an inch away from my face. I raise my palms to pinch my cheeks, “Am I dead?” “No.” I trace my finger over his brows, “Are you dead?” I hear his soft chuckle, “No,” “Then why can't I see you?” “Your contacts fell off.” My head slants to the side, “They've never fallen off without encouragement. He shrugs and I realize my fingers are now tracing the angles, curves, and sharp planes of his face. “I want to see you,” I whi