Delphine gazed at his cold and strikingly handsome face, mere inches away. His thin lips moved slightly, and he murmured lowly, "Let me think about how to say it."
She closed her eyes wearily, and the memory of her eighteen-year-old self, buried for years, rushed forward like a cornered, desperate animal.
"Search everywhere. That girl must be nearby."
"This whole area's deep forest; she's just a little girl—she won't have gotten far. Once we catch her, I'll break her legs and see if she dares to run again."
She held her breath, hiding in the dense, dark underbrush. The coarse, hoarse voices of the men carried faintly on the wind, distant yet chilling.
The world was silent. It seemed as though she was the only one left alive. Sweat blurred her vision, and she didn't dare move. The way the mountain men looked at her—it was as if they wanted to devour her. She had to run.
