Chapter 1563:
“Are you really planning to risk the life of the baby you’re carrying?”
Lydia spat back with a sneer.
“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you care.”
Torin’s heart bore no concern for the life stirring inside Lydia, nor did it tremble at the thought of Lydia herself perishing during the fight. Yet Elena cared for Lydia and the baby growing inside her.
Elena’s care bound him, and for her alone, he refused to be Lydia’s executioner.
Lydia spat venom through her teeth.
“Loathsome beast. You dare to posture as though morality clings to you when plenty have met their ends at your hands. You make me sick!”
With a sharp twist of her hips, she locked her thighs around Torin’s throat, straining to snap it by brute force.
A sinister chill hardened his gaze; Lydia had brought this upon herself. He had shown some mercy earlier.
With a single decisive movement, his hand tore her legs from around his neck and flung her aside.
The violent throw sent her reeling forward, shards from shattered heirloom vases strewn like hidden knives across the floor. One wrong landing could carve her face beyond recognition or extinguish her life entirely.
But in that pivotal instant, Lydia’s stare did not waver. Channeling the strength of her core, she contorted in mid-air, twisting to brace herself with one hand. Her palm pressed into the broken pieces, crimson spilling between her fingers. Grinding her teeth against the sting, Lydia lifted a frigid glare toward Torin.
He rose with unhurried precision, brushing down his sleeves as though her near-demise meant nothing. His warning had been plain—she had chosen to flirt with death.
𝙋𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣: ⲅⱥ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀・ⅽ𝗼𝗺
An arctic sharpness entered his voice.
“For Elena’s sake, I spare you this once.”
Lydia’s lips curled in derision.
“Should I bow in gratitude?”
Torin collapsed lazily onto the sofa, lighting a cigarette, sending idle rings into the air with a detached calm. His indifferent glance cut her way.
“If you wish to keep breathing, walk out of here.”
Undeterred, Lydia straightened, yanking the shard from her hand and tearing fabric to bind the wound.
.
.
.