She’s a wreck—malnourished, pale as death, and her body is clearly broken in more ways than one. And yet… she's still the most devastatingly beautiful young woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
Fragile, ruined, and ethereal.
I force myself to snap out of it by clearing my throat, tearing my gaze away to stare at the hard floor, trying to regain control.
This is not the fucking time, Law.
Not. The. Fucking. Time.
But even that small movement makes her flinch hard,her hands flying up to cover her face, as if that could possibly protect her.
I betray myself, and my eyes drift back to her, just a side glance at first, then longer. I can feel them starting to sting at the edges, my stomach twisting into knots.
Just get this done. Remember why she’s here.
My thoughts finally claw their way through the unwanted ache inside me, and I pull my gaze away from her.
Crossing the room in long strides, my polished shoes strike the marble, but I sense her watching me through the gaps in her fingers.
The kitchen swallows me for a moment before my hand closes around the grip of a blade, pulling it free from the block with a soft, metallic whisper. Steel gleams under the low light as I turn and stalk back toward her.
As soon as she sees the knife, her tied hands shoot forward, palms flat in desperate surrender, pushing against the air as if she could stop me with nothing but fear.
Those pretty eyes, now flooded with tears, expand until they look almost inhuman.
“STOP!” she screams, and the sound shatters the heavy silence of my mansion.
I freeze mid-step, fingers tightening around the knife until my knuckles bleach white, the blade hovering at my side.
Her chest rises and falls in violent spasms, panic devouring every inch of her face. But for a fragile second, confusion flickers in her eyes, realizing she made me actually pause.
That this broken, bloodied girl just commanded a nightmare in his own kingdom.
I carefully lower myself into a crouch a few feet away, bringing our faces level, because I know, I’m just anothershadow casting over her fragile light—tall, broad with dark hair falling messily across my forehead like dripping ink.
My eyes, pale and intense against the darkness of my presence, must look like twin abysses to someone so traumatised.
She stares at me, brows furrowed in a fleeting flash of defiance. Then the fight suddenly dissolves, and a guttural, broken weep tears from her throat as she buries her face against her arms, resting atop her knees.
“Just kill me…” she begs in defeat, the words shuddering out. “Please… please just end it before you rape me. Please… just make it quick.”
The plea sinks into me like another blade, and for the first time in my life, the knife in my hand feels heavier than everything I’ve seen and done.
“No,” I finally say, and her head slowly lifts while I finish. “You live.”
I lower the blade gently and slide it across the marble toward her. It spins once, gleaming like a dark promise, before coming to rest at her side.
She peers down at it, blinking hard, as if the world has tilted into some cruel hallucination. Her eyes then flick back to mine, her plump, quivering lips parting, but no sound escapes.
“Do you have a family?” I ask, my voice deep and steady, slicing through the intense moment.
Her confused gaze drifts down to my bare chest, shirt buttoned down, then she returns to the knife.
“Wha… What?” she stammers, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head once. “You’re… I… I don’t understand.”
A heavy sigh escapes me, my head dropping for a moment, then I plant my hands on my thighs and rise.
Turning my back to her, I pull a glass from the cupboard and move toward the refrigerator.
