Chapter 507:
Elena’s temper ignited as escape proved impossible. “Wesley! Let me go!”
In response, Wesley delivered a sharp, unexpected smack to her buttocks. “Stop moving!”
Elena’s mind emptied completely, the world around her momentarily suspended. Never in her life had anyone dared to spank her. The shock paralyzed her for a full thirty seconds, her thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. The stinging heat radiating across her flesh confirmed the reality of Wesley’s audacious action.
Her eyes darkened dangerously. In one fluid motion, she extracted a silver needle from a hidden compartment and drove it straight through the back of Wesley’s hand.
She felt his body go rigid against hers as the needle pierced cleanly through flesh and tendon. Yet, his grip remained unbroken.
“If you don’t want to die, let me go,” Elena whispered, her voice as frigid as winter frost.
Her face transformed into an emotionless mask, her words carrying a chill that seemed to penetrate directly into Wesley’s bones.
With calculated precision, Wesley maintained his grip on Elena with one hand while using the other to lift her shirt.
What he revealed was a savage knife wound carved across her back. The gash was alarmingly deep, nearly bisecting the smooth expanse of her otherwise flawless skin.
Elena’s flesh resembled warm jade in its perfection—a pristine canvas now violently disrupted. The wound gaped open, exposing raw, bloodied tissue beneath. Crimson had already soaked through her clothing.
Infuriated by his persistence, Elena extracted the silver needle and drove it with surgical precision into a more excruciating pressure point.
Wesley didn’t make a sound.
Elena’s eyes blazed with righteous anger, her lips compressed into a razor-thin line as she delivered her words with glacial composure. “Have you seen enough?”
No response came.
If it weren’t for the sound of his rapid heartbeat, Elena would have thought he was dead.
Dive into tales at gαℓ ησ ν𝒆 𝓁s, com
Her brow creased with waning patience as her hand instinctively moved toward her dagger.
Then, without warning, she felt something cold touch her wounded back.
Elena sensed Wesley’s fingertips on her wounded back, his touch damp. Wesley dipped his finger into the healing ointment and applied it with surgical precision around the raw edges of her wound.
Elena’s nose twitched involuntarily, catching the sharp, medicinal scent of the hemostatic compound lingering in the air. Was he actually tending to her injury? A flush of realization washed over her as she recognized her earlier misinterpretation, her body tensing slightly in response. With her back to Wesley, his expression remained hidden from her.
She lowered her gaze, focusing on the pronounced veins tracing the back of his hand and the taut, corded muscles of his forearm as he worked. Wesley’s deep eyes harbored a somber darkness, his desire for vengeance against Earle reaching a crescendo.
Now that Earle had inflicted this pain upon Elena, Wesley’s resolve crystallized into an unbreakable vow of retribution.
.
.
.