Duke Reinhardt's lips pressed against Elara's with an icy, metallic touch and the irresistible force of a predator. It wasn't a gentle contact, but one filled with possession, punishment, and even a thread of... uncontrolled brutality!
Sharp pain shot from her lip, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth. Elara trembled violently, tears streaming like broken pearls. She wanted to push him away, to scream, but under his absolute power and cold gaze, she couldn't summon the slightest strength to resist, trembling helplessly like a butterfly pinned to a spiderweb.
The Duke seemed pleased by her reaction—this mixture of utter terror, pain, and the fragile inability to resist due to her weakness. A chilling, almost cruel dark light flickered in his bottomless eyes. As if her fear and pain were... a unique "seasoning" that piqued his interest.
He didn't deepen the "kiss," seeming rather to use this extreme method to leave his indelible mark upon her.
After a moment, he finally, slowly, released her.
Elara slumped weakly against the tree trunk, her lip throbbing painfully, marked clearly with teeth imprints and blood. She stared at the man before her in terror, as if looking at a demon cloaked in human skin.
The Duke extended the tip of his tongue, with agonizing slowness and a chilling elegance, licking away the trace of her blood that might have clung to the corner of his own lips. The gesture was intimate and playful, yet his eyes remained utterly devoid of warmth.
"Remember," he finally spoke again, his voice low and dangerous, like a devil's pact, "you are mine."
Not a question, not a request, but an undeniable proclamation.
"From the first moment I saw you, you, and everything about you—including your fear, your defiance, these interesting eyes of yours..." He reached out a gloved finger, with agonizing slowness and an almost blasphemous touch, lightly brushing away a lingering tear track near Elara's eye. "...belong to me, Reinhardt."
Elara froze solid, plunged into an icy abyss.
She finally understood completely.
All the previous "rescues," all the "attention"—none of it was coincidence, much less any damned salvation!
This man, from the very beginning, had viewed her as an interesting plaything, prey to be toyed with at his leisure! He enjoyed her fear, savored her struggles, appreciated the pathetic little "spark" that occasionally flared up in her despair!
He saved her only because he alone had the right to decide her fate, he alone had the right to "play" with this "thing" that had caught his eye! Anyone else—be it Hugo, Gregor, or even those two assassins—who dared to touch her was challenging his authority!
Choking Gregor wasn't for her sake; it was merely a warning to everyone—this girl belonged to Reinhardt!
And that bloody, humiliating "kiss" was the most direct, most brutal mark! Branding his dark ownership deep within her soul!
There was no white knight. There never had been!
Only this powerful, cold, capricious... monster before her, whose possessiveness bordered on the pathological!
Elara's heart sank completely into the icy depths of despair. More terrifying than death was being targeted by such a being, becoming a plaything in his palm, with no hope of peace!
The Duke seemed satisfied with the expression on Elara's face now—that mix of terror, despair, and a lingering trace of defiance. He gave her one last, deep look, a gaze that felt like it could see through her soul, devour it whole.
Then, without another word, he turned, his figure melting silently back into the night like a phantom, disappearing from sight.
Gregor, still瘫 on the ground, scrambled up after the Duke left, not daring to even look at Elara as he fled in terror.
Leaving Elara alone, leaning against the cold tree trunk, the pain and taste of blood on her lip a constant reminder of what had just transpired.
She raised a trembling hand, lightly touching her broken, bleeding lip. The last glimmer of "hope" in her eyes died completely. Replacing it was a deeper fear, and... ignited by being pushed to the absolute brink, a more frantic, more desperate... will to survive!
She couldn't die! And she absolutely refused to become this twisted Duke's plaything!
She had to escape!
Escape this hunting ground, escape this devil's sight, at any cost!
In the darkness, Elara's eyes flashed with the almost crazed, cold light of a wounded, cornered wolf. She knew the real battle had just begun! And her enemy was far more powerful, far more terrifying than she could have ever imagined!