Lucifer's movements froze abruptly.
"Willingly?" he repeated the four words, his voice low and hoarse, as if he'd never heard such an absurd notion. The desire in his crimson pupils hadn't faded, but it was now tempered with icy sarcasm and deeper savagery. The hand clamped around her waist was so tight it nearly crushed her bones.
"A gender-disguised assassin with unclear intentions," his scorching breath, heavy with the scent of blood, washed over her face, "dares speak of 'willingness'?"
Lin Xi lay sprawled across the icy throne, bearing his full weight and fury, her chest heaving violently from oxygen deprivation. The bite marks on her shoulder and the bloodstains on her collarbone sent waves of stinging pain, yet her gaze remained sharp, like an unyielding flame refusing to die in the abyss.
"So..." she gasped, her torn lips twitching, "Your Majesty admits... you cannot make me 'willing'... only resort to... violence?"
Each word lashed like a whip against his pride as Alpha and ruler.
Lucifer let out a suppressed growl from his throat, almost like a beast enraged. He abruptly released his grip on her waist, but instead seized her wrists, still bound by chains, yanking her brutally from the throne and dragging her down.
Thud!
Lin Xi slammed hard against the cold, hard stone floor beneath the throne steps. She curled up, coughing, her lungs feeling torn apart.
Lucifer towered over her, his uniform disheveled, chest heaving. His crimson eyes churned with a complex storm—rage, desire, provoked fury, and a hint of frustration he hadn't even recognized himself: the frustration of "not being able to make her willing."
"Sharp-tongued and ignorant of death," he said coldly, his voice carrying absolute authority. "I will break every rebellious bone in you until you learn to beg in the proper manner."
He lifted his foot, the cold metal tip of his boot catching her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"The dungeon will teach you what 'willing' means."
Before the words faded, two black-armored guards materialized like ghosts, silently lifting the barely upright Lin Xi between them. Chains clanked around her wrists.
Lin Xi offered no resistance, only gazing intently through sweat-dampened bangs at the demon-like figure on the steps. Her eyes held no fear, only a burning calm and... scorn.
"I'll be waiting... Your Majesty."
She was dragged from the throne room, her torn robe fluttering in the cold air, revealing the bleeding bite mark on her shoulder—his mark.
[The Dungeon]
True darkness and dampness engulfed her.
No windows here, only scattered torches on the walls casting flickering, distorted shadows. The air thick with decay, blood, and a certain despair. Iron bars clanged down with a heavy thud.
Lin Xi was ruthlessly tossed into a corner strewn with moldy, dry straw. The other end of her chains was firmly locked to a metal ring embedded in the wall. The icy floor instantly stole the last remnants of warmth from her body.
The guards departed, their footsteps fading into the distance. The dungeon fell silent save for the crackling of the torches and her own heavy breathing.
[WARNING! Host's vital signs continuously declining! Environmental threat level: High! Mission time remaining: 2 hours 11 minutes!]
The system's alert was cold and urgent.
Lin Xi leaned against the icy wall, eyes closed, gasping for breath. Every inch of her body screamed with pain and exhaustion. Lucifer's pheromones seemed to linger in the air, a domineering reminder of what had just transpired.
Willingly?
She twisted her lips into a silent, blood-tinged smile.
Against an entity as utterly powerful and arrogantly superior as Lucifer, showing weakness or begging would only hasten his disinterest, leaving her discarded like trash. Only provocation—only by constantly creating obstacles in his most cherished domain of strength and conquest, forcing him to repeatedly feel "out of control"—could maximally ignite the Alpha's possessiveness and... his marking instinct.
She was gambling.
Gambling that his pride wouldn't let him admit he couldn't conquer a "female."
Gambling that his innate predatory nature would be utterly captivated by this uncontrollable "anomaly."
Gambling that his words—"Your scent belongs to me now"—weren't merely a rash declaration born of rage.
The dungeon's bone-chilling cold seeped into her marrow. The wound on her shoulder throbbed faintly in the damp air. Hunger and thirst began to chip away at her resolve.
Lin Xi curled her body, burying her face between her knees to conserve her dwindling strength. In the darkness, her senses sharpened. She could hear the distant, muffled moans of other prisoners, smell the subtlest shifts in the air.
Time ticked away, second by second.
[Time Remaining: 1 hour 58 minutes]
After an unknown duration, steady, distinctive footsteps echoed through the silent dungeon passage.
Not patrol guards—these footsteps were heavier, carrying a unique rhythm belonging to a top predator.
Lin Xi jerked her head up, staring into the shadows beyond the cell door.
In the flickering torchlight, Lucifer's tall, imposing figure slowly materialized. He wore a new set of jet-black robes, the collar slightly open, as if shedding the lingering smoke and brutality of earlier. Yet in the dim light, his crimson pupils still gleamed like a beast locking onto its prey.
In his hand, he held a cup of clear water.
He paused before the cell door, his gaze fixed on her through the cold iron bars—disheveled, vulnerable, bearing the marks he had left upon her shoulder, curled up in a filthy corner like a bird with broken wings that still refused to bow its head.
"Beg me," he said, his voice echoing through the empty dungeon with an unyielding command. "Beg my forgiveness for your earlier offense."
He placed the cup of water slowly on the floor outside the cell door.
"This is your final chance."
Lin Xi lifted her head. Amidst her disheveled hair, her eyes shone unusually bright in the darkness. She looked at him, looked at the cup of water mere inches away, her parched lips moving slightly.
Then, she made a gesture that caused Lucifer's pupils to contract sharply.
Her chained hand reached out, not for the water, but laboriously dipped her fingertips into the blood still wet on her shoulder wound.
Then, on the cold, filthy floor, she traced a twisted yet recognizable symbol with that crimson blood—
an ancient mark belonging to the wolf clan's covenant, signifying...
"Equality."
She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze—shocked and suddenly dangerous—and uttered two words, hoarse yet clear:
"Exchange."
In the dungeon, flames flickered.
She sat behind the blood-drawn symbol, like a queen sacrificed to the darkness.