The punishment lasted exactly four days.
On the morning of the fifth day, Scarlett woke to find her door unlocked.
She stared at it for a long moment, certain it was a trick. A test. Another one of Sylus's mind games designed to break her spirit a little more. But when she finally worked up the courage to try the handle, it turned smoothly.
The door opened.
Lin stood in the hallway, his expression carefully neutral. "Good morning, Mrs. Qin. Your punishment period has concluded. You're free to move about the mansion as you wish."
Free. What a joke. Free to wander her cage.
Free to explore her prison. Free to do anything except the one thing she actually wanted—to leave.
Scarlett took it anyway. Took the illusion of freedom because it was better than nothing. Better than four more days staring at the same four walls while slowly losing her mind.
She spent the morning in the library, pretending to read. Spent the afternoon in the gardens, walking the same paths she'd memorized a hundred times.
The bodyguards followed at their usual distance—close enough to intervene, far enough to pretend she had privacy.
By evening, she was back to her usual routine. Trapped but mobile.
Caged but allowed to spread her wings within the bars.
Then she heard it.from the second floor. Multiple men, speaking in low tones punctuated by Sylus's distinctive voice—calm, authoritative, commanding.
A business meeting.
She'd heard about these from the staff's whispered conversations. Dangerous men coming to negotiate with the dragon. Arms deals. Territory disputes. The bloody business that kept his empire running.
Scarlett's heart began to race.
The meetings were held in Sylus's private office on the second floor. Which meant most of his men would be stationed there—guarding the attendees, managing security, focused on potential external threats.
Which meant the front entrance would be less heavily guarded than usual.checked the time. 6:47 PM.
The meeting had started twenty minutes ago and would likely last at least an hour. Maybe more if negotiations got heated.
This was it.
This was her chance.
Scarlett forced herself to breathe normally as she made her way casually toward the main foyer. Just a bored wife taking an evening stroll. Nothing suspicious. Nothing worth paying attention to.
Lin followed a few paces behind, but she could tell his attention was divided. He kept glancing toward the second floor, toward where his boss was conducting dangerous business with dangerous men. His hand rested near his weapon, ready for trouble from that direction.
Not from her.front entrance came into view.
Usually there were four guards posted there. Tonight there were only two, and both looked tense, listening to the comms in their ears, ready to respond if the meeting went sideways.
Perfect.
Scarlett didn't think. Didn't plan. Just acted.
She ran.
Her small size and speed had always been her advantage. She darted past Lin before he could react, weaving between furniture, heading straight for the entrance. Behind her, she heard shouting—Lin's voice raised in alarm, other guards responding.
But she was fast. Faster than they expected.
Two guards at the door moved to intercept, but Scarlett was already in motion. Years of running from bullies in school, running to catch buses, running through life had made her quick.
She ducked under the first guard's reaching arm, spun away from the second—
And kicked.
Her foot connected with the first guard's hand just as he reached for his weapon.
The gun clattered to the marble floor, and Scarlett scooped it up before anyone could stop her.
The weight of it shocked her. Heavier than she'd expected. Cold. Deadly.
She pointed it at the guards with shaking hands.
They froze.
"Don't," she said, voice trembling but determined. "Don't come closer. I'll—I'll shoot."
She wouldn't. They probably knew she wouldn't. But the gun gave her power, gave her a chance, gave her the few seconds she needed.
"Mrs. Qin, please—" Lin had caught up, hands raised placatingly. "Put down the weapon. Let's talk about this."
"No talking." Scarlett backed toward the door, keeping the gun trained on them. "I'm leaving. I'm walking out that door, and none of you are going to stop me."
"We can't let you leave," another guard said carefully. "The boss's orders—"
"I don't care about his orders!" Her voice cracked. "I don't care about any of this! I just want to go home!"
They looked at each other, uncertain.
Their boss had been very clear: never touch Mrs. Qin without explicit permission. Never harm her. Never restrain her physically unless absolutely necessary.
But letting her escape? That would earn them a fate worse than death.
The standoff stretched for several heartbeats.
Then Scarlett made her move.
She turned and ran for the door, still holding the gun, praying they wouldn't tackle her from behind. The massive front doors were already open—one of the business partners must have just arrived. Cool evening air hit her face as she burst through.
Freedom.
She was outside. On the driveway. The gates were open—open to let in the late-arriving business partner, his car still idling near the entrance.
Scarlett ran.feet pounded against the paved driveway. The gates were maybe thirty meters away. Twenty-five. Twenty. So close. So close she could taste it, could feel it, could almost believe she was actually going to make it—
BANG.
The sound split the evening air like thunder.
Scarlett's leg exploded in white-hot agony.
She stumbled, her momentum carrying her forward even as her leg gave out.
The pavement rushed up to meet her, and she hit hard—hands, knees, face all slamming into stone.
The gun skittered away, useless now.
Pain. Oh god, the pain. Her leg was on fire, burning, screaming. She looked down and saw blood—so much blood—spreading across her jeans in a dark stain.
The bullet had hit her thigh, tearing through muscle and flesh.
She tried to get up. Couldn't. Her leg wouldn't support her weight. She collapsed back to the pavement with a cry.
Footsteps approached. Measured. Unhurried.
Scarlett looked up through tears of pain and saw him.
Sylus stood ten feet away, a smoking gun in his hand. His face was carefully blank, but his red eyes blazed with something terrible. Fury. Regret. Fear.
He'd shot her.
He'd actually shot her to stop her from escaping.
"You—" Scarlett's voice came out as a wounded rasp. "You shot me."
Sylus lowered the gun slowly, staring at her like he couldn't quite believe what he'd done.
Then he moved, crossing the distance between them and kneeling beside her.
Scarlett slapped him.
The crack of her palm against his face echoed almost as loud as the gunshot. Her hand stung, but she didn't care. She hit him again. And again. Cursing him with every word she knew in both English and Chinese.
"I hate you! I HATE YOU! You're a monster! A demon! I hope you rot in hell! I hope—"
Sylus caught her hands gently, stopping the blows but not fighting back. Just taking it. Taking her rage and her pain and her desperate, broken fury.
"I know," he said quietly.
"You shot me!" Tears streamed down her face, mixing with blood from where she'd scraped her cheek in the fall. "You shot your own wife!"
"I know." His voice cracked slightly. Then, so quiet she almost didn't hear it: "What have I done?"
He looked down at the blood spreading across the pavement—her blood, so much of it—and something in his carefully controlled expression finally cracked. Panic bled through. Fear.
"GET THE DOCTOR!" he roared at his men, his voice raw with an emotion she'd never heard from him before. "NOW!"
Lin was already on his phone, barking orders. Other guards rushed forward with medical supplies, but Sylus waved them back.
"Don't touch her. Nobody touches her but me."
He scooped Scarlett up with careful hands, cradling her against his chest like she was made of glass. The movement jostled her leg, sending fresh waves of agony through her body. She cried out, trying to push away from him, but her strength was fading.
"I know it hurts, kitten. I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was talking fast now, words tumbling over each other as he carried her back toward the mansion. "The doctor's coming. You're going to be fine. You have the healing Aether core, remember? You'll heal. You'll be okay. You have to be okay."
Scarlett wanted to keep fighting. Wanted to curse him more, to make him understand how much she hated him, how much this hurt—not just her leg, but everything.
Her heart. Her soul. The last fragile hope that she might someday escape.
But the world was getting fuzzy around the edges. Dark spots dancing in her vision. The blood loss making her light-headed.
"Stay with me," Sylus commanded, his voice sharp with fear. "Scarlett. Stay awake. Look at me."
She tried. Really tried. But her eyes were so heavy.The last thing she saw was his face above hers—those red eyes wide with something that looked almost like terror. The dragon who feared nothing, terrified because he'd hurt the one thing he claimed to love.
The last thing she felt was his arms tightening around her, holding her like he could keep her soul from slipping away through sheer force of will.
Then darkness took her, and she knew nothing at all.
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Scarlett drifted in and out of consciousness for what might have been hours or days or minutes. Time had no meaning in the gray space between waking and sleeping.
She heard voices. Felt hands on her—clinical, professional, treating her like a patient instead of a person. The sharp sting of a needle. The pull of thread through flesh. Antiseptic smell burning her nose.
And through it all, one constant presence.
"Will she be okay?"
"The bullet went clean through. No major arteries hit. With her healing Aether core, she should recover fully within a few days."
"A few days?"
"Her core is remarkable, Mr. Qin. Already the wound is beginning to close. By tomorrow, the bleeding should have stopped completely. Within a week, you won't even be able to tell she was shot."
"I want her monitored every hour. If anything changes—anything—you call me immediately."
"Of course, sir."
More time passed. The gray space got darker, pulling her deeper.
But she could still feel him there. Sitting beside the bed. Holding her hand. His thumb tracing circles on her palm like he was afraid if he stopped touching her, she'd disappear.
"I'm sorry." His voice, rough with emotion.
"I'm so sorry, kitten. I didn't mean to—I aimed for your leg. A warning shot. I thought—" He broke off. "I never wanted to hurt you like this. Never."
A pause. Then, so quiet she almost missed it:
"What am I becoming? What kind of monster shoots the person they love just to keep them from leaving?"
No answer came. Just silence and the steady beep of medical equipment and the weight of his hand in hers.
"You'd be better off if I'd never found you. If I'd let you live your normal life with your bubble tea and your macarons and your art classes. You'd be happy. Safe. Free."
His hand tightened on hers. "But I can't let you go. Even knowing how much I'm destroying you, even seeing proof written in blood and bullet wounds—I still can't let you go."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm selfish. I'm a monster. And I love you too much to do the right thing."
He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Hate me when you wake up. Rage at me. Try to kill me if you want. I'll take it all. I deserve it all. Just... just keep breathing."
Scarlett wanted to respond. Wanted to scream at him that he was right—he was a monster, he was destroying her, she did hate him.
But the darkness was too strong, pulling her down into dreamless sleep where there was no pain, no fear, no dragon with sad red eyes keeping vigil beside her bed.
She surrendered to it gratefully.
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When Scarlett finally woke fully, sunlight was streaming through the windows. Morning. Or maybe afternoon. She couldn't tell.
Her leg throbbed with a dull ache, but nothing like the screaming agony from before. She looked down and found it wrapped in clean white bandages, elevated on pillows.
The room was quiet. Empty.
No Sylus keeping watch. No doctors hovering. Just her and the sunlight and the evidence of what had happened written in gauze and lingering pain.
Scarlett pushed herself up slowly, biting back a wince. Her head swam for a moment, then cleared. She looked around the room, taking inventory.
Her prison. Her cage. The place she'd tried so desperately to escape.
The place she'd been shot trying to leave.
She touched the bandages gently, feeling the shape of the wound beneath. He'd shot her. Actually shot her. Put a bullet through her leg like she was an escaped prisoner instead of his wife.
What did that make her? What did that make him?
The door opened quietly. Mrs. Chen entered carrying a tray of food, then stopped when she saw Scarlett was awake.
"Miss Scarlett." Relief flooded her face.
"You're awake. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been shot," Scarlett said flatly.
Mrs. Chen winced. "I'll let Mr. Sylus know you're awake. He's been—"
"No." The word came out harder than intended. "I don't want to see him."
"Miss Scarlett—"
"I don't want to see him," she repeated, louder this time. "Tell him to stay away from me. Tell him I never want to see his face again."
Mrs. Chen set down the tray carefully.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. This is his home. And you're his wife."
"I'm his prisoner," Scarlett corrected bitterly. "And he's the warden who shot me to keep me in my cell."
She turned away, facing the window so Mrs. Chen wouldn't see the tears building in her eyes. "Just... just go. Please."
After a moment, she heard the door close softly.
Alone again.
She let the tears fall then, silent and bitter. She'd been so close. So close to freedom she'd tasted it. And now she was back here, injured and trapped and more broken than ever.
The dragon had won.
Again.
Always.
And the bullet wound in her leg was just another reminder that she would never, ever escape him.
No matter how hard she tried.
No matter how fast she ran.
He would always catch her.
Even if it meant shooting her down to keep her caged.
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To be continued.