Chapter 70

Grace wiped her lips, which were sticky with saliva and blood, with the back of her hand. They were unharmed, not even torn. She had expected him to bite her lips, given that she had fed him her blood, but he did not tear her lips.

“You did well.”

Winston patted her buttocks as if praising her, a satisfied smile on his face, like a master pleased with his dog for breaking a bad habit.

Annoyingly, he had indeed corrected Grace’s ‘bad habit.’ She wouldn’t bite him when he kissed her anymore.

Madman.

She glared at his lips, which were both bloodstained and wild, and only then realized that her eye level was the same as his.

Grace’s knees were not touching the floor but the table. She couldn’t remember when Winston had lifted her and placed her on his thighs.

He lifted Grace again and laid her on the table. The cold metal made her body curl reflexively, but her legs spread wide.

Winston held her knees apart and slowly scanned the space between them. Was he suspecting that she had sold her body to the guards to escape?

Not content with just confirming that her thighs looked clean, he even spread and probed her with his fingers. The two knuckles that protruded from his bent fingers pressed and stirred her insides. Her inner walls tightened, her lips parted, and a lewd moan escaped.

“Ah...”

Winston, who had been looking down at her with a disdainful expression for her immediate, lewd response, suddenly pulled his fingers out without warning.

“Hiss!”

The sound made her back arch violently before sinking back down, hitting the table with a thud. Even after his fingers were gone, her inner walls continued to clench, as if craving what had been lost.

Craving. Craving his body. The humiliation made her bite her lip hard.

As soon as his hand left, she pulled her legs tightly together and covered her chest with her arms. She felt unbearably ashamed, as if the moment when she had stood naked before him without a care was a lie.

Winston, who was wiping his wet fingers with a handkerchief, frowned. His gaze was on the arm that pressed against her chest.

“Your body is mine. Don’t leave any marks other than the ones I make.”

He was referring to the scratch marks on her arm.

He began to scan Grace’s body from head to toe, as if looking for another wound. When his gaze fell on her neatly drawn knees, his frown deepened.

There were marks on her knees from slipping in the laundry chute. Winston, staring at the circular, red abrasions, sneered and asked,

“Did you kneel before the guards and use the techniques I taught you?”

Leon knew better than anyone that the frightened privates would never do such a thing.

But this woman was different. She was fearless and obsessed with escaping.

However, it was just an irrational fantasy born from his possessiveness.

Regaining his composure, he dropped the used handkerchief onto her tattered bra, and the woman finally responded.

“Well, that’s a good idea. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

Of course. The woman’s first reaction to his baseless suspicion was a look of disgust, followed by a provocation that stirred his insecurity. Her true feelings always revealed themselves in her first reaction.

“Next time?”

Leon responded to her provocation with another provocation.

“I’m seriously curious if you can escape naked. Especially while wearing this.”

A ominous sound was heard, and a heavy weight was felt on her ankle. Even Grace, who was used to being restrained during interrogations, was taken aback when she saw the end of the shackle on her ankle.

The other end of the chain attached to the shackle was fixed to a ring in the wall. Grace was more shocked by the chain coiled on the floor like a snake than by its length. The length of the chain meant one thing: she would not be able to move freely in this torture room.

‘He means to keep me shackled from now on.’

Escaping would be difficult. Or perhaps impossible.

“Try your best.”

He gave the disheartened woman a casual encouragement and turned his back on her.

“I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.”

“By the way, this is the last time I’ll watch.”

Winston smiled at her, and Grace responded with a smile.

She was no longer afraid of Leon Winston.

Even if she was caught escaping again, what would you do?

You can’t kill me. You’ve already imprisoned me. You’ve already trampled on my body.

What else can you possibly scare me with?

As proof, the punishment for her escape was less severe than she had anticipated.

Unfortunately, the bastard named Winston had definitely caught the scent of relief from Grace. He left with these words:

“Of course, the punishment is just beginning.”

Grace had overlooked one thing: Leon Winston could not scare her, but he could cause her pain.

* * *

A tall officer in a black uniform walked out between the marble columns that evoked an ancient temple.

An overwhelming presence.

The tall figure exuded an aura that matched the grand entrance of the Western Command.

The soldiers on guard at the columns stood at attention and saluted. The captain, without a glance, acknowledged their salute with a nod and walked down the gray steps with ease.

Pierce quickly got out of the passenger seat and opened the rear door of the sedan. Although it was an unwritten rule that only officers of the rank of major and above could have cars or carriages at the main gate, a lieutenant colonel he met on the stairs passed by without reprimanding him, having received the captain’s salute.

Once the captain got into the car and Pierce sat in the passenger seat, the driver started the sedan. As the car left the command’s perimeter and entered the road, Pierce looked back.

The captain, removing his cap, seemed to be relaxing his stiff muscles by slowly tilting his neck to the side. Signs of fatigue were visible on his face.

“You’ve been coming to the command frequently lately.”

“Soon, a new commander will arrive. Everyone is busy sweeping the old dust under the carpet.”

The Western Command was in the midst of a belated spring cleaning in preparation for the new commander.

It was a superficial act of redecorating the building and offices, but in reality, everyone was frantically trying to clean up the traces of misconduct that had accumulated under the previous commander, who had been complacent.

They had no choice. The new commander, who would take office in a few days, was a collateral descendant of the royal family and the king’s most trusted general.

Moreover, he was a general. It was unusual for a general to take on the role of a regional commander, which was typically held by a lieutenant general. This indicated the king’s great disappointment with the previous Western Commander and his resolve to restore discipline.

“Captain, the item you ordered has arrived today.”

Pierce handed a box as large as his face to Leon, who was lost in thought. The black box, tied with a golden silk ribbon, had the name of a famous jewelry boutique embossed in gold.

“Is it a gift for Her Highness the Duchess?”

Pierce asked with a meaningful smile, but Leon narrowed his eyes. Pierce, who handled personal matters for the family and was less perceptive than Campbell, would not have made such a foolish remark if he knew about Leon’s relationship.

But even if he didn’t know, Campbell wouldn’t have asked who it was for.

Realizing his mistake, Pierce closed his mouth and turned his head forward.

Leon looked at the box in his hand again. Imagining the woman wearing the item inside made him forget the day’s fatigue and feel a sense of joy.

But soon, his neck ached.

It would take at least three or four hours to return to the mansion. The evening appointment he had already been reluctant about became even more bothersome.

He buried himself deeper into the seat and looked out the window at the bustling, glittering city. Behind his indifferent eyes, he imagined the woman again.

This time, he imagined her delighted face when he gave her a simple necklace or earrings, something far from the item in the box.

She would smile shyly, but then her face would start to contort, and the neatly arranged necklace and earrings would become tangled. The jingling sound of the jewelry would blend with her heavy breathing, and finally, she would lie beneath him, lost in a blissful ecstasy, smiling more brilliantly than the jewels, and ask him,

“Do you like me?”

Shut up, Grace.