Ian’s hands trembled. Not from nerves this time, something else. His chest tightened suddenly, like invisible fingers were pressing down on his lungs. His breath hitched, shallow and short. Then came the sharp, pulling ache near his heart, like it was being squeezed from the inside out.
He gasped and staggered.
The rifle slipped from his hands with a dull clatter. He clutched his chest, dropped to one knee, the pressure overwhelming.
"What... the hell..." he managed to choke out.
His vision blurred for a second. Sound dulled. His pulse slowed, not just a little, dangerously so. Each beat came slower than the last, his body dragging into some unnatural rhythm, like he was being pulled under water.
The guards’ faces had changed. Gone was the fear. Now they looked smug. Cold. Some even looked amused. One of them sneered. They knew exactly what was happening.
Ian blinked up through the haze of pain, the carriage door had opened.
From within stepped a woman, young, probably no older than twenty-two. She didn’t rush. She didn’t need to. Every movement was slow, graceful, and confident.
She walked toward him. Ian’s heart stuttered again, it stuttered in admiration. She was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.
Her skin had a glow to it, warm and smooth like she’d been carved from honey and sunlit marble. Long dark hair spilled in waves over her shoulders, partially tucked beneath a rich cloak that barely clung to her curves. Her hips swayed beneath the robes as she moved, effortless and slow, like every step made the ground beneath her bow.
Her figure was like something out of a fever dream, full, sensual, commanding. Plump breasts pressed lightly against the fabric of her robe, and her waist tucked perfectly into wide hips that shifted with practiced elegance. She radiated power, but not just magical.
Ian could hardly breathe. He was dying — he knew that now, but somehow his eyes still locked on her. Pain wrestled with awe inside him.
She stopped just in front of him, her eyes sharp, curious, and cool. A small smirk touched her lips, like she was enjoying his suffering. was routine for her.
And even as the crushing force in his chest brought him lower to the ground...
Ian still couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was closer now.
He barely managed to lift his head, still kneeling, the ache in his chest finally loosening just a little.
Then she bent, just slightly, and the edge of her robe dipped open.
Even in the middle of all the pain, Ian noticed. His eyes caught the curve of her chest, the soft skin, the dark shadow between full breasts barely held by silk. For a second, a stupid, fleeting second, the pain blurred, and something like a grin tugged at the edge of his mouth.
Through cracked lips, he chuckled. "If this is the afterlife... not bad."
He raised one shaky hand toward her face, fingers trembling with effort.
She slapped it away without hesitation.
The crack of palm on skin echoed. Ian winced, the sting barely even registering compared to the pressure that had just been crushing his chest. Still, the rejection stung in a whole different way.
"Damn," he muttered, exhaling hard. "Can’t a dying man get one last wish?" ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novel-fire.net
She looked disgusted.
"Shameless," she said coldly. "Even at death’s door, men never stop being pathetic."
Then she let the grip on his heart vanished. Ian fell forward slightly, catching himself on one arm. His lungs expanded. Air filled him like it hadn’t in minutes. He coughed, rasping for a second, then looked up at her again.
She wasn’t even looking at him anymore.
She turned her back, her cloak swaying with the motion. Without facing him, she gave a sharp command.
"Take him. Bind him. He’s coming with us."
The guards didn’t question it.
Ian slumped there, defeated, chest heaving, arms weak. As the guards moved in, he looked up again and his gaze dropped.
Damn, he thought. Even in chains, I’m checking her out.
The curve of her hips moved with every step. That full figure under layers of expensive fabric... It wasn’t fair.
He shook his head at himself, groaning under his breath. I should be planning an escape. Not fantasizing like a perv.
Rough hands grabbed him from behind.
Ian grunted, trying to shrug them off, but he was too weak, and they were too many. Two of the guards yanked his arms behind his back and bound his wrists tightly with coarse rope. The knot bit into his skin with every twitch.
He hissed through his teeth. "You sons of bitches—!"
Another pair of hands slipped the straps of his backpack off. He felt the weight of it disappear from his shoulders. Then they picked up the rifle from where he’d dropped it, holding it like it was some cursed artifact. They didn’t understand it, but they knew it was dangerous.
"Careful with that," Ian spat, jerking his chin toward the guard holding the rifle. "It bites."
One of them shoved him forward.
He stumbled and almost fell, catching himself before his face hit the dirt. Then he saw what they were doing, one guard had walked behind the carriage and tied a long rope to the back axle. The other end of that rope... was fastened to his wrists.
Ian stared. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
He barely had time to curse again before they tugged, and the carriage started to move. The rope yanked him forward, nearly dragging him off his feet. His arms, already sore, twisted behind him as he tried to keep up, his boots slipping over the uneven path.
"F**k you all," he barked, breathless. "This how you treat guests? No warm welcome, no wine, just ropes and slavery?"
The guards rode in silence, cold and upright on their horses. The woman, the one who nearly stopped his heart, sat back inside the carriage like nothing had happened, like Ian was already forgotten. He kept walking. There wasn’t a choice.
Every now and then, the rope would jerk without warning, and he’d have to jog awkwardly to avoid falling. The pain in his ribs throbbed. His wrists stung. His throat was dry, and his legs were already starting to ache.
But his mind didn’t stop working.
He looked around as much as he could, eyes scanning the trees, the road, the position of the sun. One thing was crystal clear now to him....He wasn’t on Earth anymore....