Dydra's ocean blue eyes lifted slowly from the forest floor. Her gaze traveled upward in reluctant increments, tracing the muddy boots planted firmly before her, then the long, powerful legs, his narrow waist, broad chest, the sharp line of his neck, until she finally met his eyes. Midnight-black, cold and assessing. The intensity of his glare made her chest tighten. Irritation burned unmistakably within them, sharp enough that she instinctively broke eye contact and lowered her gaze once more.
"Mmm." Leonard hummed softly, as though a final piece of a puzzle had just slid into place.
Before she could react, one of his hands slipped free from his pocket. His movements were swift and deliberate. Warm fingers closed around her chin, firm enough to make her breath hitch as he lifted her face. His touch sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She was forced to look at him now, forced to meet the piercing weight of his stare.
"Who sent you?" he asked.
His voice was calm, almost conversational, but authority coiled beneath every word, heavy and inescapable. It was the kind of tone that did not expect defiance, only obedience. The kind spoken by men who were used to the world bending when they commanded it to.
Dydra's brows drew together in genuine confusion. Sent her? Her thoughts scrambled, tripping over one another. What was he talking about? Who would have sent her anywhere? She had been running—fleeing—trying to escape pain, not serve it.
"M-my lord," she stammered, her voice unsteady despite her effort to control it, "I don't know what you mean. I swear."
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, but she held his gaze as best she could. Leonard's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in concentration. His attention shifted inward, listening—not to her words, but to the rhythm beneath them. Her heartbeat was fast, panicked, but steady. Honest.
She was telling the truth.
With a quiet exhale, he released her chin and slid his hand back into his pocket. The sudden absence of his touch left her feeling oddly unbalanced. Dydra sucked in a sharp breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
She bowed quickly, relief flooding her limbs, and turned to leave, desperate to put distance between them.
"Stop."
The single word cut through the rain like a blade.
Her body froze mid-step.
"State your business here," Leonard ordered.
Dydra turned back slowly, keeping her eyes lowered in submission. Everything about the way he spoke told her this was not a man she could afford to offend. He was not merely wealthy—he was dangerous. The faster she complied, the greater her chances of walking away from this forest alive.
But what could she possibly say?
She couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn't explain that she had fled from a woman who had reached into her mind and unlocked memories she had buried to survive. Couldn't tell him she was unraveling, that grief had torn itself free and was bleeding her dry from the inside. She bit her lower lip, frustration bubbling over, and stomped her bare foot lightly into the mud.
Leonard noticed.
A faint pull tugged at the corner of his mouth, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. The gesture amused him. Not the behavior of someone trained to deceive. Whatever this girl was, she wasn't an assassin.
"I… I got lost," Dydra blurted. "From my family."
The moment the words left her mouth, regret slammed into her. Lost? From her family? It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. What if he asked for names? Proof? What then? She couldn't say Thelmond—not after everything. Not after being thrown out like refuse, hunted, nearly killed. Her thoughts spiraled, dragging up memories she didn't want to relive, her breathing growing shallow.
"What is going on in that head of yours… little fox?"
His voice shattered her thoughts.
She sucked in a breath, startled to realize he had moved closer without her noticing. He leaned down slightly, bringing himself closer to her level, though he still towered over her. Panic fluttered violently in her chest. She took an instinctive step back, but something in his eyes—dark, warning—stopped her cold.
And little fox?
Her confusion flared into irritation. She frowned sharply.
Leonard studied her with quiet fascination, watching the way emotions flickered openly across her face. Fear, frustration, defiance—all unguarded. It was rare. Dangerous, even. And strangely compelling.
"What did you just call me?" Dydra demanded, her voice sharper now, her eyes hardening into ice.
"Do you have trouble with your ears," he replied smoothly, "little fox?"
The taunt landed exactly where he intended.
"I am not little," she snapped, "and I am definitely not a fox. So stop calling me that."
Leonard lifted one brow and straightened fully, his height eclipsing her completely. He said nothing, merely looked down at her pointedly.
Understanding struck a split second too late.
He was mocking the difference between them.
Dydra clenched her teeth, stomped her foot again, and glared up at him, fury sparking in her gaze.
"Forgetting our places, are we?" Leonard said calmly.
Her anger vanished instantly.
Oh no.
Her eyes widened as reality crashed down on her. He wasn't just wealthy—he was important. Powerful. The kind of man who could ruin lives with a word and never think twice about it.
She bowed deeply, panic flooding her veins. "My lord, forgive me!"
Her heart pounded violently as she berated herself. Fool. Absolute fool.
A low chuckle slipped from Leonard's lips.
The sound made her muscles tense instantly. She was already lowering herself further, nearly to her knees in the mud, when his voice stopped her.
"What happened to your shoes?"
She froze.
Leonard's gaze had dropped to her feet, small and bare, smeared with mud and trembling from cold. His brows knit together slowly. Irritation flickered again, but this time it was different—sharper, more dangerous.
Why was she barefoot?
Dydra followed his gaze belatedly, realization dawning with a quiet horror. She had left without them. Stormed out in blind rage, forgetting something as basic as her boots. Her stomach twisted painfully.
She straightened slightly, mind racing. Another lie? She couldn't keep lying. Every word felt like another crack in thin ice.
Leonard's jaw tightened.
Whoever she belonged to—family or master—had failed her. And that thought stirred something dark and unpleasant in him.
"Well?" he pressed.
Dydra swallowed hard, rain dripping from her lashes, the weight of his attention crushing down on her as she scrambled desperately for an answer.