The window was open, and the white curtains fluttered in the wind. The snow had stopped, and the pure white dressed the scenery outside into a dreamlike, magnificent fairy tale world. He stood in the cold, snowy light, looking like a handsome prince with golden hair and blue eyes, his ice-crystal-like pupils filled with a faint sadness.
Finally, his voice returned to calm, “Yes, perhaps it should end.”
He walked out of her room, the floor littered with shattered vessels. He had broken everything within reach in that room, with one exception: her, lying quietly on the sickbed. After his storm-like rampage, she remained so still, the ward’s window wide open, cold winds rushing in, the temperature in the room quickly dropping to near zero. Her tears slid down her icy cheeks, almost freezing into ice.
After a long while, a nurse finally entered the room to clean up the mess.
The next day, as dawn broke, Lieutenant Jacob quietly approached her bedside and said, “Miss Gianna, I have been ordered by the General to take you back to the residence.”
Khanyi’s eyes were vacant as if she had become a soulless zombie, sitting dazed on the bed. But Jacob knew he could not delay. Without waiting for her to react, he stepped forward and picked her up in his arms, carrying her fragile, cold body to the black Mercedes sedan, closing the door securely behind her.
The car drove steadily along the road. Through the window, the outside was a winter’s silence, with white lining the road, sparse pedestrians, and a few similarly slow-moving vehicles. However, the car still arrived at the gate of the villa, where guards were usually strict. Lieutenant Jacob gestured for the guards to let them through.
He helped her out of the car like a partridge frozen in the snow, her feet unresponsive, trembling with every step. Lieutenant Jacob supported her to the reception room on the second floor. His task was complete, but he did not leave immediately. He took one last deep look at her; she sat quietly in the chair, her skin pale, eyes dark, with blood-stained bandages wrapped around her wrists, completely motionless.
“Take care of yourself,” Lieutenant Jacob knew he could do nothing more than leave her with those words, which he also knew were meaningless. He turned and left the reception room.
Soon, he pushed the door open again, followed by a maid carrying some clothes and boxes. The pink dress was not the same as the previous one; the hem of the earlier dress had been torn into rags to bandage his wounds. This was a complete, brand-new dress.
“Put it here; you can go out now,” he said softly to the maid.
The maid humbly retreated, her body bruised, anemic, and her gaze vacant. He gently untied the straps of her dress.
…
He opened the velvet box and took out the diamond-studded necklace. This necklace, paired with the dress, seemed too dazzling and extravagant. After hesitating for a moment, he still placed it around her neck.
He meticulously dressed her as if performing a sacred ritual; then his ice-blue eyes gazed at his work.
He knelt on one knee, like a medieval knight pledging loyalty to his lady. He traced her with his long fingers, starting from her ankle, where his name was tattooed on her delicate ankle. He caressed the tattoo and moved up to her calf.
His hand did not venture under her skirt but instead traced the beautiful curves of her thigh and hip, her waist and smooth abdomen, her soft breasts standing upright. The neckline of her dress was low, revealing half of her fair chest, with his family crest, a black wolf, on her left b****t.
A lightning mark was on her shoulder blade. He branded her with his mark; she was his possession, his slave, his woman. He suddenly felt his blood boiling, his heart pounding in his chest, as if it would leap out at any moment.
Finally, he pressed her down onto the table.
His chaotic heat met her bone-chilling cold, yet she still cooled him down.
…
He adjusted her pink dress.
“Go,” he said to her. She moved her legs stiffly, like a puppet on strings, following him step by step into the woods behind the residence. Her dress was made of thin silk, and her shoes were delicate high heels, all spring styles, unsuitable for the winter after the snow, yet she felt no cold at all.
“This gun has only one bullet. If it doesn’t hit you…” He paused slightly, something flickered in his ice-blue eyes, and he said hoarsely, “Then you will be free.”
