The Journey: Secrets

The woman surged to her feet, her red gown clinging to her frame, soaked through and dripping onto the floor. Lara doused the woman with water and alcohol. She surmised that mixing a strong scent in the water might change the smell that seemed to cause the men to be under her spell.

"You dare throw that on me?" The woman hissed. Her voice cracked like a whip, a tempest of fury laced with disbelief. Heat radiated from her, not from shame or embarrassment, but from unbridled rage. Her eyes, once sultry and coquettish, now burned with unfiltered wrath as she drew back her hand to strike Lara across the face.

But the blow never landed.

Just as her hand cut through the air with the swiftness of a striking viper, a calloused hand—large, steady, unyielding—caught her wrist mid-air. The contrast was stark: brute strength meeting the weak, delicate hands. Alaric's grip was like iron, and it held her fast.