Chapter 10 Passionate Pursuit (R18)
Aurora paused mid-step, her heart heavy with an unbearable weight.
Slowly, she turned her head to glance at her ex-husband, the man she had once loved with all her heart.
His eyes, usually so full of strength and resolve, now reflected only helplessness.
A sad, bittersweet smile touched her lips, though it barely reached her eyes.
Then, with quiet resignation, she shifted her gaze back to the one who now held the reins of her fate—our overpowered, malevolent protagonist.
"You won't kill him, will you?" Aurora's voice was barely more than a whisper, tinged with both fear and hope. Her question hung in the air like a fragile thread.
A smile curled at the corner of his lips, chilling and merciless. "Of course not," he said, his tone light but laced with cruelty. "Where would be the fun in that?"
Aurora's heart sank. She had expected no less. "Predictable," she muttered, bitterness seeping into her voice.
Her eyes, once filled with affection for the man she loved, now hardened as they turned back to Sword Saint Tristan.
The man who had fought for her, who had once been her everything, now stood immobilized, bound by invisible forces far beyond his control.
Despite the power that had earned him his title, he was completely at the mercy of the villain's twisted game.
She stepped closer to him, her breath shallow. "I've loved you in this life, and I'll love you in a trillion lifetimes to come. He may take my body, but my heart—my heart will always be yours. You must never doubt that, Tristan."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Her resolve hardened as she looked into Tristan's eyes, searching for some hint of the man he had once been.
The man who had fought to protect her, even at the cost of his own life.
He struggled against the unseen bonds that held him, his muscles twitching with futile effort, but his gaze never left hers.
He could do nothing but watch, powerless to stop the events unfolding before him.
With trembling hands, Aurora reached for the delicate fabric of her bridal gown. Each movement felt like a betrayal, but there was no turning back.
She slipped it from her shoulders, letting the fine material fall in a pool of white at her feet.
What remained were two flimsy undergarments that did little to conceal her form.
Her chest, ample and full, strained against the bra, the fabric threatening to tear under the pressure.
Her skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the dark fate that awaited her.
Both men's gazes were inevitably drawn to the space between Aurora's legs, their throats tightening as they gulped in unison at the tantalizing sight that lay before them.
The once-flowing bridal gown now pooled at her feet, leaving her clothed in nothing but a pair of delicate white undergarments.
The fabric clung to her skin, highlighting the soft curves of her body, a stark contrast to the cruelty of the situation.
The pristine white of her underwear seemed almost symbolic, reflecting not only the purity she had fought so hard to protect but also the innocence that was about to be stolen from her.
It was a cruel irony—she stood there, exposed, yet untouched by the darkness that threatened to consume her.
Her body, though revealed, carried an ethereal grace that neither man could ignore.
Our op evil MCs eyes lingered, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
To him, this was more than just a physical display—it was power, a conquest waiting to happen.
Tristan, on the other hand, could hardly bear to look. His heart twisted in agony, his fists clenching despite his inability to move.
Every fiber of his being wanted to protect her, to shield her from the violation that loomed, but all he could do was stand there, helpless, as the sight of her body in those fragile white garments burned itself into his memory.
Aurora's breath hitched, aware of the attention her body commanded. Though her face remained composed, a storm of emotions raged beneath the surface.
She stood like a sacrificial offering, knowing that despite her exposure, her heart and spirit remained untouchable.
Tristan's jaw clenched. His heart raged with frustration and despair, but his body refused to obey.
He wanted to scream, to fight, to tear apart the chains that bound him, but he could do nothing.
He stood there, paralyzed, forced to watch the woman he loved prepare to sacrifice herself for a fate worse than death.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, his mind tortured by his helplessness.
Aurora took one last glance at him, her expression softening as she whispered, "I'm sorry."
Aurora turned around, her movements deliberate and unhurried, as she finally walked toward the overpowered, evil protagonist.
Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like an invisible force.
There was no room for second thoughts, no turning back from the path she had chosen.
She had made up her mind, and with it came an unsettling sense of finality that echoed in the silent room.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but outwardly, she appeared calm. The tension in the air was suffocating, her skin prickling under the intensity of the villain's gaze as it traced her every move.
She could feel the weight of their expectations pressing in on her, but she refused to let it show. If this was how it had to be, she would face it on her own terms.
Stopping just in front of him, she tilted her head slightly, allowing a fake playful smile to curl her lips. It was a hollow smile, devoid of the warmth it once held. "How would you like to take me, my dear Quinn?" she asked, her voice soft but dripping with feigned amusement.
The words felt foreign on her tongue, like a bitter pill she was forcing herself to swallow.
This, she knew, would be her last act of rebellion—the last vestige of control she could cling to in a situation where she had none.
The smile, though false, was her shield, a thin veneer of defiance that she had chosen to wear like armor.
It was a mask, one she had carefully crafted in the last moments of her resolve, and it would be the face she presented to the world from this point forward.
No matter what happened next, no matter how much she had to endure, this mask would remain firmly in place.
It would be her final weapon against the cruelty of fate.
Inside, her heart ached, but she would not allow herself to break—not ever!
Her gaze flickered briefly toward Tristan, her former love, who could only watch helplessly.
His anguish mirrored her own, but she knew that if she showed even a hint of weakness, it would all be over.
She couldn't afford that—not for herself, and certainly not for him.
"That's the way I like y—" the villain began, but his voice was abruptly silenced as Aurora's lips crashed into his with a fierce, almost desperate hunger.
The words died in his throat, swallowed by the force of her kiss, which was anything but soft or hesitant.
It wasn't a gesture of passion or desire, but one of pure defiance, a bold claim on the very thing that sought to claim her.
Aurora had decided to seize the reins of her own destruction, taking the offensive in a situation where she had seemed powerless.
Her lips moved over his with an intensity that was both calculated and raw, as though by acting first, she could reclaim a shred of the agency that had been stolen from her.
Our op evil mc, momentarily stunned by the unexpected assault, froze before her.
His eyes widened in shock, his body stiff as he processed the sudden shift in dynamics.
Still, he was nonetheless pleased with how things went.
Aurora's heart raced as she pressed herself against him, her body betraying none of the turmoil roiling beneath the surface.
She had taken up the mantle of her mask and wore it flawlessly, her performance so convincing that even she, for a brief moment, almost believed it.
The mask didn't just hide her vulnerability—it made her feel as if she could conquer the inevitable.
Her hands gripped the front of his clothing, pulling him closer, tightening the illusion of control.
In the end, this was not just an act of survival, but a declaration that, no matter how our op evil mc tried to take her, she would meet him on her own terms.