The villa they were in—a sprawling estate nestled deep in Romania's countryside—was quiet, the kind of quiet that came with thick stone walls and carefully placed wards. But the bed was far from empty.
Hei Lian lay at the edge of the mattress, her wrists and ankles bound with cold, enchanted chains that glinted faintly in blue light.
Her body was bare, her skin gleaming softly in the yellowish glow of the bedside lamp. Her dark hair fell messily over her face, partially covering her closed eyes.
The sheets beneath her were stained, a mix of blood and sweat from the hours before. She wasn't moving, unconscious from exhaustion, her breathing shallow but steady.
Wang Xiao's gaze lingered on her briefly. Hei Lian had pushed too far after the Shura attack, and he'd been left with no choice but to "educate" her thoroughly.
She needed to understand her place, and he had ensured she wouldn't forget.
