16. Blood in Her Hands

He quickly broke the man’s wrists, grabbed the chained collar and tossed him away. He must be the assassin that was supposed to be in the dungeon. Blood was running from her hand while she gripped on the shard of ceramic. He stared down at her as she coughed and got up, ready to fight the man.

“Number 1.” She grumbled.

“What?” He asked. He then looked at the man who smirked and held the deep wound on his neck. He was severely injured and if he’s a human, he might be already dead. But the man rushed to the balcony and jumped. One thing that they didn’t expect.

He should be already dead from the wound that he received.

She dropped the glass as she looked down at her left bleeding hand. She somewhat never felt so hurt with just a simple wound. Maybe because he was around and her body and head knew well that he would react if she looked miserable.

“Oh, darling.” He laughed as he reached his head. He’s getting crazier. He needs bars around her room now. That’s what he thought. He had to k