CHAPTER 191: MAGIC WORDS

Once the adrenaline kicked in again, Primrose had no reason to stop fighting. She kicked and shoved, doing everything she could to push him away, even if her strength wasn’t enough to make him budge.

"What a fiery little queen!" he laughed, his voice full of mockery as he tore the top of her dress. "You only make me want you more when you struggle like that."

"Get off me!" Primrose shouted, desperately trying to hold her dress together. If nothing else, she didn’t want this man to see even a bit of her skin.

She kicked his leg again, and this time, it only made him angrier.

"You bitch!" he growled, grabbing her arm and throwing her onto the ground. She forced herself to crawl away, but he pulled her legs back and pinned her under him.

No, no, no.

She writhed under him, trying to protect herself, trying to keep his hands away. "Don’t touch me!"

"Move your hands," he growled, trying to force her arms away from her chest. But Primrose held on tightly, using every ounce of strength to resist.

"I said no!" she cried.

Slap!

He slapped her across the face, hard enough to make her cheek throb with pain. Primrose held her breath as her body froze in shock.

At that moment, all her resistance felt hopeless, crushed by the difference in strength between them.

"Finally quiet, huh?" he sneered, yanking her hands away again, rougher this time, so rough she felt like he might have fractured her bones.

Was there really nothing she could do, other than hope Edmund would come save her?

But what if no one came?

What if Edmund wasn’t there this time?

She had been acting like a damsel in distress from the beginning. But deep down, she knew, she couldn’t expect someone to always show up and save her from danger.

Still, what could she even do?

She couldn’t fight. She didn’t have strength to match the beasts. She couldn’t run as fast as them.

She was useless.

Maybe ... maybe she deserved to be treated this way because she couldn’t protect herself.

Wouldn’t it be better to die than let him treat her like some kind of sex doll?

Should she kill herself?

No. Edmund would be devastated.

But ... what if this bastard was right? What if Edmund didn’t want her anymore after knowing another man had touched her?

No. What the hell was she thinking?

Her husband would never do something like this to her.

Her husband loved her.

But she had done nothing as another man started tearing her clothes, wouldn’t Edmund think she wanted it?

Maybe it would be better to just kill herself, because a dead woman would be more respected than one who stayed silent while being abused.

At least then, no one would question her silence.

But why did she have to be the one who died? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

If anything, he was the one who deserved to die.

"Isn’t it a bit boring when you stay this quiet?" he cupped her face and tilted it toward his. "Oh, you look even more beautiful when you’re angry like that."

But her golden eyes had no life in them. There was no fire, no fighting spirit, just emptiness. She looked like someone who had already died, even though her heart still beat.

"You should be the one to die," Primrose said flatly, as if she no longer cared what would happen next. "If you love your brother that much, why don’t you go and join him?"

Without hesitation, she clenched her jaw and spat in his face. "I really, really want you to die."

She braced herself for the worst.

He might explode in rage, and then he would hit her, curse her, or maybe slam her head into the ground like before. Anything.

But nothing happened.

The disgusting man—someone so vile Primrose hadn’t even bothered to learn his name—just ... froze.

He stared at her, but something in his eyes had changed. The sick hunger, the disgusting lust, it was gone.

All that remained was emptiness.

Hollowness.

His hands stopped clawing at her clothes. His fingers loosened. His shoulders sagged.

And then, to her horror and confusion, he backed away from her, crawled a few steps, and picked up a heavy stone.

Primrose’s heart skipped a beat.

He started mumbling under his breath, over and over, like a broken record. "She wants me to die ... she wants me to die ..."

Then he began slamming the stone into his own head.

Once.

Twice.

Again and again, he struck himself, until blood splattered the ground like ink spilled across a ruined canvas.

Primrose could only stare in disbelief as the man who had tried to assault her now beat himself to death because she had told him to.

With her body trembling, she slowly tried to crawl away. She wanted to run, but her sprained ankle gave out the second she stood, sending her crashing back to the ground.

The only thing she could do now was lean against a tree, curl her legs up to her chest, and hope that man would really die.

She didn’t understand why someone as arrogant as him would suddenly start smashing his own head with a stone.

Was he just doing it for show? So that she would feel victorious, and then he’d laugh in her face?

But no.

He didn’t laugh.

He didn’t stop.

Even when his arms grew heavy from blood loss, even when the cracks in his skull grew deeper, he kept going.

Like a puppet with broken strings, dancing to the final command its master had given.

But why? Why did he do that?

No way.

Primrose’s eyes widened as she realized he had started slamming his head into the stone right after she told him to die.

But ... did he really do it because she said so?

No. The real question was ... why would he obey her?

Did she ... just control his mind?

How?

Primrose hadn’t done anything.

She had only spoken her thoughts aloud. She didn’t even have any magic in her body.

The only thing she could do was read other people’s thoughts and even that had nearly torn her apart just a short while ago.

Before she could think more about it, she heard the sound of many footsteps approaching.

Were they royal soldiers?

[I hope Thevan already killed that bitch.]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How much longer would she have to keep dealing with these tigers?

She curled up tighter behind the trees, praying desperately that no one would find her.

But of course, prayers meant nothing to beasts that could smell fear and blood.

Just as she spotted three tiger beasts approaching from the distance, a loud wolf’s howl echoed in the air, so loud it made her ears ache.

The ground beneath her shook as a massive white wolf landed right in front of her.

It was huge, Primrose could barely see its head from where she sat.

She held her breath as the wolf turned toward her, its eyes glowing bright blue.

The wolf’s long fangs peeked from the edge of its mouth, but instead of fear, Primrose felt something else.

Safety.

She finally felt safe.