The world dissolved into a cacophony of water and wind. The rain swallowed everything—the sound of her own ragged screams, the frantic hammering of her heart, even the last vestiges of reason.
Then, a silver flash tore through the grey veil of the storm.
It was not a bolt of lightning, but a dagger, flying with unerring accuracy. The blade buried itself deep into Yu Zang's shoulder with a sickening, wet thud. He let out a choked cry, his body buckling as he collapsed to his knees in the mud, his free hand clutching at the hilt protruding from his flesh.
Leena gasped, stumbling backward so violently she almost fell. Her hands flew to her mouth, shaking as if they no longer belonged to her. Her lips still burned from the shocking, unwanted pressure of his kiss—a violation that had lasted only a second but felt branded onto her skin. With trembling, frantic fingers, she wiped at them furiously, over and over, as though she could scrub away the shame and the alien taste along with the rain.
Through the blurring curtain of water and her own welling tears, her eyes found the source of the blade.
Li Wei.
He stood like a statue carved from fury and storm, his silhouette dark against the weeping sky. He didn't look at Yu Zang, writhing in the mud. He didn't look at Lady Jiang. His gaze, a blast of pure, unforgiving ice, was locked solely on her for one endless, accusatory second. Then, he turned. His back, proud and rigid, was already retreating into the sheeting rain, his black robes clinging to him, heavy and soaked, every deliberate step radiating a cold, final fury.
It was him… He had seen. He had thrown the blade. And he thinks I wanted it.
The realization was a second, more profound violation. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. "He misunderstood…!" The cry was torn from her, a whisper lost in the downpour.
A desperate, primal need seized her. She had to reach him. She had to explain, to make him see the truth.
But as she lurched forward, a hand shot out, yanking her back with brutal force.
Lady Jiang's jeweled fingers, cold as the rain, dug like talons into the soft flesh of her arm, her perfectly manicured nails biting through the wet fabric of her sleeve. Her lips curled into a vicious, triumphant smirk, a slash of crimson against the storm's monochrome grey. "He saw your true face now," she hissed, her voice a venomous purr. "The face of a wanton seductress. There's nothing you can do. You are nothing to him now."
Leena twisted, her own fear evaporating under a surge of white-hot anger. Her eyes, usually so gentle, blazed with a fire the storm couldn't quench. "Why?" she demanded, her voice sharp and clear, cutting through the rain. "Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?"
Her tone—the direct, unflinching challenge—shattered Lady Jiang's smug composure. The noblewoman's expression snapped, twisting from calculated cruelty into raw, unadulterated fury.
"How dare you!" she spat, her voice dripping with a hatred so pure it sizzled in the air. "How can a filthy, low-born foreign wench speak to me, a daughter of the Jiang clan, with such impudence?!"
A bitter, disbelieving laugh burst from Leena's chest, her body heaving with the force of it. "Low-born? That's what this is about? My caste?" Her voice rose, unwavering and proud despite the water streaming down her face. "I am the only daughter of Vikram Das, the wealthiest spice merchant in the entire Indian subcontinent. My bloodline is older than some of your empire's dynasties. If anyone here is 'low-born' by the measure of mere wealth and lineage, it is not me."
For a moment, Lady Jiang's mask of aristocratic superiority cracked. Surprise, then a flicker of insecure rage, contorted her beautiful features. The blow had landed; Leena's lineage was a weapon she hadn't anticipated.
Leena took advantage of the shock, ripping her arm free with a sharp, forceful twist. "I don't have time for your petty jealousy." She turned, her entire being focused on the path Li Wei had taken, a desperate determination fueling her—
But the world tilted, then went black.
A crushing, explosive pain detonated at the base of her skull. There was no warning, only the brutal impact of Lady Jiang's hand, which now clutched a heavy, jagged stone she had snatched from the ground. It came down without a shred of mercy.
Leena crumpled instantly, her body going limp, collapsing into the churning mud with a soft, final thud.
Behind them, Yu Zang, still on his knees and clutching his bleeding shoulder, had witnessed the entire, horrifying exchange. His breath came in ragged, pained gasps, torn between his own agony and the chilling scene unfolding before him. He tried to shuffle backward, to crawl away from the madness, but Lady Jiang's cold, commanding voice cut through the roar of the storm, freezing him in place.
"Come here."
Her gaze remained fixed on Leena's unconscious form, but her tone was sharp enough to pierce through bone and fear.
Yu Zang froze, shivering violently under her shadow. He was a physician, a man of reason, but in the face of such ruthless power, he didn't dare disobey.
"Find men. Loyal men. Take her to the old stables. Now."
Her orders were crisp, efficient. This was not a crime of passion; it was a plan being executed.
Moments later, two burly kitchen hands, their faces grim and obedient, arrived. They hauled Leena's limp body unceremoniously through the relentless rain, her arms dragging through the mud, her head lolling. They dragged her to a forgotten, dilapidated corner of the estate—the abandoned horse grange.
The place was a tomb of neglect. It reeked of damp, mildewed hay, rotting wood, and the pungent, lingering scent of animal waste. Mud squelched underfoot with every step, and the damaged roof offered little shelter, each gust of wind spraying cold water inside. It was no place for a noblewoman—it was no place for any living soul.
With a callous lack of care, they threw her onto the filthy, straw-littered floor. The pristine white of her dress, a symbol of her healing vocation, was instantly defiled, stained with dark mud and clinging filth.
"Wake her." Lady Jiang's order was as sharp and final as the dagger still embedded in Yu Zang's shoulder.
A servant, avoiding eye contact, filled a wooden bucket from a leaking trough and hurled the icy, murky water across Leena's body.
She jolted awake with a strangled gasp, choking and coughing, her chest heaving as the freezing liquid clawed at her skin and stole her breath. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly, strands of wet hair plastered to her face like seaweed. Her mind scrambled to piece together the nightmare.
Then the throbbing, nauseating pain at the back of her skull returned with a vengeance. She reached a trembling hand back—and her fingers came away warm and sticky with blood. Her eyes widened in dawning horror. "You… you hit me?!" she whispered, the accusation laced with disbelief and terror.
Lady Jiang stepped forward, her expensive silks dragging through the mud yet somehow still managing to look regal, a queen of filth and cruelty. Her eyes glinted with a dark, unholy satisfaction.
"Yes," she hissed, closing the distance. She grabbed Leena's face in a brutal, unforgiving grip, her nails digging crescent moons into the soft skin of her cheeks, forcing her to look up. She leaned in close, her cloying, expensive perfume a sickeningly sweet mockery against the overwhelming stench of the stable.
"And I've planned far worse for you."
🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 To be continued... 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺