His Warning

Leonariz let out a long, shaky breath before settling onto a stool in the unfamiliar kitchen. Her body wasn't tired, but her mind was exhausted from the constant battle to control her rage against the three housemaids who were systematically tormenting her.

She wasn't stupid. She might not know much about the world outside the forest, but she wasn't blind to their intentions. She understood every word they spoke.

A day had passed since Anastasia had forced mud into her mouth. Leonariz had swallowed almost half of it before the maids finally stopped, satisfied by her tears and distress. Edna's timely arrival had saved her from losing control.

"A-augh…" She winced, a low moan escaping her lips. A sharp, unfamiliar pain gnawed at her stomach, likely a consequence of yesterday's ordeal.

She clutched her belly, her eyes falling on a smooth, hard object in the corner. From Edna's gestures, she understood its purpose: a toilet.

But Leonariz already knew what it was. A man who'd once stumbled upon their tribe had mentioned it.

She moved slowly, her hands fumbling with the unfamiliar garment covering her lower body—underwear, she recalled.

"Hurt…" she whispered, pushing aside her thoughts.

She sat on the toilet and did what she needed to do.

—

A wave of relief washed over Leonariz after she finished. Her body felt lighter and cleaner.

Edna, cleaning the marble floor, stopped when she saw her. She raised an eyebrow, then offered Leonariz an object, which Leonariz accepted.

'This must be the broom,' Leonariz thought, recognizing it from the outsider's instructions. It was part of the cleaning etiquette he'd taught them.

She began sweeping, mimicking Edna's movements, a quiet satisfaction blooming in her chest. She was learning. In the forest, they didn't need to sweep; the earth was their floor.

She was lost in the task when a sound pierced the air—a familiar sound, the same she'd heard before the armed men attacked her tribe.

Instinct took over. Her hand instinctively gripped the broom, transforming it into a weapon. It was like holding her jaguar-fang sword again.

Edna frowned, puzzled by Leonariz's sudden shift. She couldn't understand the Amazonian's darkening aura, her sharp, watchful gaze fixed on the living room when all she'd heard was the sound of a car engine.

Heavy footsteps echoed closer, deliberate and menacing.

Leonariz and Edna's attention snapped to the kitchen door. The footsteps stopped just outside. The door opened.

Edna bowed her head instantly. "Ser Psyke."

("Sir Psyke.")

Edna paled as she looked up, meeting Psyke's deadly gaze.

"Aaa... YA kupil yeye, priyutil, nakormil, no u neye vse yeshche khvatayet smelosti obnazhit' klyki pered khozyainom. Interesno, pochemu, Sebast'yan?"

("Ahh... I bought her, I sheltered her, I fed her—yet she still has the guts to bare her fangs to her owner. I wonder why, Sebastian?") Psyke's voice was a chilling whisper, his eyes fixed on Leonariz, who seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Khm... Dumayu, ona tak otreagirovala na vashe pribytiye iz-za svoyego prirodnogo instinkta, Boss. V kontse kontsov, ona tvoy dikiy tigr, ty dolzhen etim gordit'sya."

("Hmm... I think she reacts that way to your arrival due to her natural instincts, Boss. She's your wild tiger, after all, you should be proud.") Sebastian said, smiling faintly, his hands in his pockets.

"Ponyatno... Togda u menya net drugogo vybora, krome kak svyazat' yeye i posadit' v kletku."

("I see... I have no choice but to tie and cage her well, then.") Psyke's voice was devoid of emotion.

But inside, Psyke's feelings were a tempest. They'd just returned from France, and he'd come straight here, eager to see his 'Amazona'. He hadn't expected this.

His father's words echoed in his mind—a warning he'd tried to ignore. The thought of Leonariz escaping, of her dying at someone else's hands, was unacceptable. It enraged him.

"Sebastian, give me those things." Psyke's command was sharp and authoritative. Sebastian's face was equally devoid of emotion.

"Are you sure about this, Boss?" Sebastian asked, his tone flat.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Sebastian." Psyke's gaze was lethal.

Sebastian sighed and left to retrieve what Psyke had requested.

A flicker of surprise crossed Leonariz's face. Her heart pounded. Was it fear of another attack on her tribe? Or was it something else—the chilling darkness in Psyke's eyes, the unspoken threat in his silence?

"Vyydite iz etoy komnaty i zaprites' v svoikh komnatakh, yesli ne khotite, chtoby ya porezal vam odin palets."

("Leave this room and lock yourselves in your rooms if you don't want me to cut one of your fingers.") Psyke's command silenced the maids, who fled the kitchen.

Sebastian returned, carrying something Leonariz hadn't expected to see again. She thought she was free of chains and shackles.

Psyke took the end of a long chain with a heavy shackle.

He moved towards Leonariz, tilting her chin upwards with a finger. He looked down at her face, his height giving him a commanding presence.

"Ahh… I hope you can at least understand what I'm about to say…" Psyke's voice was close to her ear.

"You won't be able to escape me, woman."