⚠️ A Quick Heads-Up ⚠️ : The following chapter depicts an intense and physical confrontation. If you are sensitive to scenes of violence or attempted assault, you may want to proceed with caution. Your mental comfort comes first. -`♡´-
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The bandit's hands clamped around her shoulders like iron manacles, his grip so brutal she felt the bones grind. A sharp, shooting pain lanced down her arms.
"Finally… I got you." His breath was a foul, hot wave against her face, reeking of cheap liquor and rotten meat. The low, perverse laugh that followed wasn't one of triumph, but of ownership, and it sent a cold, primal shiver of dread coiling down her spine.
Leena's fingers, numb with fear, tightened convulsively around the jagged, cold stone she'd found earlier. It was her only anchor to reality. Without a sound, without a warning cry, she swung it with all her dwindling strength toward his temple—
But his reflexes were animal-fast. A thick, calloused hand shot up and seized her wrist in a bone-crushing grip, stopping the blow inches from its target. A sharp, white-hot pain flared in her arm. The stone tumbled from her nerveless fingers, clattering mockingly onto the cave floor.
"Calm down, little wildcat," he drawled, his eyes raking over her disheveled hair and torn clothes in a way that made her skin feel filthy, violated. "I'm not gonna hurt you…"
He leaned in closer, his mouth twisting into a grotesque sneer that revealed yellowed teeth. " Or maybe…" he whispered, his voice a venomous promise, "…just a little."
Her stomach churned. She needed to think—fast. Her medical mind raced, searching for a pressure point, a weakness.
When he leaned in again, his face so close she could count the pores on his nose and smell the sour stench of alcohol saturating his very pores, she made her move.
With a guttural cry of pure survival, she drove her forehead forward with all the force she could muster, aiming for the bridge of his nose.
The CRACK was sickeningly, deeply satisfying. A wet, crunching sound that echoed in the small space. He stumbled back with a sharp, choked grunt, his hands flying to his face. Dark, crimson blood immediately seeped between his thick fingers, dripping onto the front of his tunic.
"You little—whore!" He wiped at the blood now streaming from his nostrils, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure, unadulterated rage. The playful predator was gone, replaced by a vengeful killer. "I'm going to kill you!"
Leena didn't wait. She bolted for the sliver of daylight at the cave's entrance, her legs feeling like water.
She didn't make it three steps. A rough, muscular arm, hard as oak, hooked around her waist, yanking her backward so violently her feet left the ground for a moment. Her bare feet scraped and tore against the jagged, rocky floor as she twisted and clawed at him, her nails digging into grimy skin.
"Let me go!" The scream was ripped from her, raw and desperate.
He didn't. Instead, he laughed, a harsh, grating sound.
In one swift, brutal motion, he flung her to the ground like a ragdoll. The impact drove the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh. A searing agony exploded through her already injured wrist as she landed hard on it, and a sharp rock dug into her back. A broken cry tore from her throat, followed by hot, helpless tears she could no longer stop.
She tried to push herself up, her arms trembling violently, but his shadow loomed over her, blocking the light, before she could even get to her knees. The world had shrunk to this cave, to him.
Then his hands were on her throat.
Not to restrain, but to destroy.
Leena's eyes went wide with a terror so profound it was paralyzing. His filthy, massive fingers dug into the delicate flesh of her neck, squeezing with methodical, crushing force.
Air—she couldn't get air. A frantic, whistling gasp was all she could manage. Her world narrowed to the unbearable pressure constricting her windpipe, stealing her voice, her life.
Her nails raked bloody furrows down his arms, her fists pounded weakly against his chest and face, but he was a statue, immovable. The pressure only grew worse, a relentless vise. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision, her lungs screaming in a silent, burning agony.
His face hovered above hers, twisted into something grotesque and inhuman, his broken nose still leaking blood. A hint of dark, glimmering satisfaction shone in his gaze as he watched the life fade from her eyes.
So this is it… This is how it ends.
Her thoughts came in shattered, panicked fragments. All my life, I've fought to save others… poured every ounce of my strength into healing… but I failed to save myself.
Her strength was draining fast, her struggles turning feeble. Her vision tunneled, the cave walls blurring into a smear of gray and brown.
She forced her dying gaze toward the entrance, toward freedom.
There it was—just a few meters away. A perfect, cruel snapshot of the world she was leaving. Beyond it, she could see a small stream trickling peacefully past, its surface glinting faintly in the afternoon sun. The water was calm, undisturbed. A bird sang somewhere in the distance. The normality of it was a torture all its own.
A single, hot tear rolled down her temple and into her hair.
I'm sorry, Papa… I'm so sorry…
The world dulled into a muffled hum. Sounds grew distant, as if she were sinking deep underwater. Even the crushing grip on her neck began to fade into a strange, cold numbness. This was peace. This was the end.
Then—
The hands were gone.
The sudden release was as violent as the attack. Leena collapsed onto her side, her body convulsing as she dragged in ragged, burning breaths that felt like swallowing shards of glass. Her chest heaved painfully, each inhale a searing scrape against her ravaged throat.
Thump.
Something warm and wet splattered onto the cave floor beside her face. Then again. A slow, steady drip.
The smell hit her before her eyes, still blurred with tears and oxygen deprivation, could register it—thick, coppery, and unmistakable.
Blood.
She barely had time to comprehend it before a voice, strained and desperate, cut through the thick haze of her shock.
"Leena!"
Her name.
Someone was shaking her, their grip urgent but careful, turning her over. Gentle hands cradled her head.
She turned her heavy head, the image of the peaceful stream slipping from her sight as she focused on the figure kneeling over her. Her vision swam, shapes and colors bleeding together into a single, frantic silhouette.
Dark, disheveled hair. Familiar, fiercely worried eyes, dark pools of panic and rage.
The prince.
For a moment, she was certain she was hallucinating. That her dying mind, in its final, merciful act, had conjured a bittersweet phantom of him to comfort her in the dark.
A faint, delirious smile curved her bruised and bloody lips—weak, but utterly genuine.
Then the darkness, the true and welcoming kind, surged up and claimed her.
To be continued ⎛⎝( ` ᢍ ´ )⎠⎞ᵐᵘʰᵃʰᵃ