Chapter 8: The Beast's Shackles

After a long, tense moment, Vesper finally broke the silence with a cold, cutting remark. "You seem pretty dim - witted, yet you're not without your little schemes."

Eleanor, her eyes wide and alert, sized him up. His face was smeared with a gruesome mixture of blood and dirt, and his upper body hair was matted with blood, glistening in the dim light. Curiously, it seemed that none of this blood was his own. The only wound she could spot was on his forearm. The injury, roughly the size of a bowl's rim, clearly an old one. The edges were caked with dried blood and hair, while the inner flesh had turned into a sickening, pus - filled mess, pale and rotting deep within. It appeared that the werewolves' much - touted super - strong self - healing ability was nothing more than a myth.

Sensing Eleanor's scrutiny, Vesper's nerves jolted. In a split second, his claws shot out like lightning, clamping around her neck. There was a loud, resounding "bang" as Eleanor's head was hurled violently backward, causing her vision to swim with stars. His heavy, blood - scented breath washed over her face. When she finally regained her senses, she found the beast's ferocious visage mere inches from her own.

"What the hell are you staring at?!" he snarled, his eyes ablaze with a storm of fury.

Terrified by his bloodshot eyes, Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively raised her hands to shield herself. "I... I just noticed the wound on your arm."

"Since when is my well - being any of your concern? Do you have any idea that with a simple twitch of my fingers, I could snap your neck like a twig?"

"I know!" Eleanor nodded frantically, then reluctantly lifted her eyelids. "Your wound is already infected. If you don't treat it, it'll fester deeper and deeper. Once it reaches the bone, the pain will be excruciating."

Vesper's eyes narrowed into slits. "What are you plotting?"

"I can heal your wound, stop it from rotting. If I cure you, you'll let me go," Eleanor declared, summoning the courage to meet his gaze head - on.

Vesper was taken aback, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Are you actually trying to strike a bargain with me, the leader?"

"Yeah," Eleanor affirmed with a determined nod.

After a brief, pregnant pause, Vesper scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How dare you even think of making a deal with me? It's just a minor scratch. It'll heal on its own. I'm not idiotic enough to gamble with you over something so trivial."

"But it's not healing. That means it's infected. If you don't treat it, it really will rot to the bone," Eleanor implored, her eyes brimming with an earnestness he had rarely seen. "By the way, do you have a hospital here?"

"A hospital? What on earth is that?" Vesper's brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

"A hospital is a place where people go to get treated when they're sick or injured."

"Humph," Vesper sneered derisively. "Werewolves never get sick. Why would we need such a place? Even if we're injured, our recovery abilities are top - notch."

"What about humans? What do they do when they fall ill?" Eleanor pressed.

"Leave it to fate. If they can't escape the clutches of illness, they die," Vesper replied nonchalantly, suddenly baring his razor - sharp fangs. "Although humans are incredibly fragile, their reproductive capabilities are astonishingly strong. There's no need to worry about their extinction!"

Eleanor was left speechless. So, this world truly revolved around werewolves. Since they didn't get sick and had remarkable recovery powers, they had no use for medical institutions and didn't even comprehend the concept. It was utterly twisted that humans, reduced to slaves and servants, had no choice but to leave their fates to chance!

Observing Eleanor's gloomy expression, Vesper's voice turned even colder. "The weak are preyed upon by the strong. That's the law of the land. Do you have a problem with that?!" As he spoke, his grip tightened around her neck.

The pain was excruciating. With the added pressure, tears welled up in Eleanor's eyes, and she frantically tried to pry his hand away.

"I know, I know... I won't say another word, okay?"

Seeing her plead for mercy, Vesper finally released his hold. But the moment he did, Eleanor blurted out, "Alright, I'll lower my terms. I'm not asking you to set me free. Just spare my life. If I heal the wound on your arm, you can't kill me."

"When did I ever agree to that?" Vesper was momentarily stunned, then found the situation almost comical. This woman seemed to have completely misjudged the situation. By lowering her demands, she made it seem as if he was the one begging her.

"What have you got to lose by giving it a try? You know full well I don't have the means to harm you. What are you so afraid of?" Eleanor shot him a defiant look. "If it doesn't work, you can always kill me, right?"

"No way. Why should I listen to a word you say?"

"Ugh," Eleanor groaned in frustration, suddenly finding his self - righteous, arrogant demeanor insufferably annoying.

After a long, drawn - out silence, she let out a weary sigh. "I give up. There's no point in trying to convince you. I'm ready to accept my fate. Do whatever you want with me." With that, she stood up, squared her shoulders, and turned to face Vesper.

Vesper regarded her with a penetrating gaze, noticing the steely resolve in her expression. She truly seemed prepared to embrace death.

"Interesting," Vesper murmured in a deep, rumbling voice. He raised his hand and, with a sharp tug, snapped the ropes binding Eleanor. Eleanor's heart leaped in her chest. Could it be that this monster had a shred of humanity left and had changed his mind? But the thought vanished as quickly as it had come when, in the same motion, Vesper tore her top to tatters, exposing her pink bunny - patterned bra.

Vesper's eyes took on a teasing glint, and Eleanor's heart skipped a beat. The term "sexual tool" flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning.

"Ahh—" She let out a horrified scream and, on pure instinct, swung her fist at Vesper. Vesper sidestepped with ease, his body moving like a shadow. Her punch missed him by a hair's breadth, and the force of the wind whistled past his ear. The still - wet blood droplets on his hair splattered like fine pearls.

"What a powerful punch! You really do know some martial arts!" Vesper exclaimed, seizing her wrist. She immediately lashed out with her other hand, only to have it blocked as well.

"Your puny punches are no match for me. Do you really think you can take me on?"

"I - I'm warning you, don't you dare get any ideas. If you so much as lay a finger on me, I'll fight you tooth and nail!" As she struggled, she tried to cover her exposed skin, acutely aware of Vesper's gaze. Even though there was little emotion in his eyes, every spot his gaze touched felt as if it was on fire.

"Bah, I'll keep my hands to myself if you tell me the truth right now. I'll let you go this instant," Vesper said casually, hooking a finger around the strap of her bra. He found the garment fascinating. Female werewolves might cover their chests with a simple piece of cloth, but it was never crafted with such finesse, nor did it accentuate the female form so alluringly.

Eleanor was mortified. She knew that with the slightest pressure from Vesper, her upper body would be completely exposed. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest. "What else do you want me to say? I've already told you the truth. I don't know anything about that Scarlet Lady!"

Vesper's eyes narrowed to slits. He spun around, his movements quick and powerful, and threw her onto the bed. His strong arm pinned her shoulders down, and one hand gripped her face, forcing her to look directly at him.

Eleanor's cheeks were squeezed almost out of shape, and she cried out in agony, "It hurts... It hurts... It hurts..."