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Faking Love To Save The General

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 666    |    Released on: Today at 15:46

g laugh hit Brandt l

The veins in his neck bul

arge hand clamped around

nuckles turning white. He stared intensely into her eyes,

was

ck of oxygen. Her lungs burned as if she had inhaled f

t ounce of strength le

her head

directly into the side of Brandt's neck,

pensive, stiff fabric of his collar

nstantly flooded Eulah's mouth. I

a roar of pure,

ck and swung it forw

threw Eul

h the air, the heavy

crack echoed th

l smashed into the jagge

ad. It poured down the wall, staining th

e hung completely limp, suspended only by

gray haze. But she kept

clamped over his bleeding neck. B

familiar-flashed

soaked fingers against the wound, not out of any sense of mercy, but driven by a furious, twisted possessiveness. She

ll, Mace heard

, his keys jingling

d the prisoner bleeding out on the wall. His knees gave out. He co

rey had died without his per

He snatched the standard-issu

, Brandt drove the blade strai

. His blood mixed with the muddy p

the monster

h twitched up into a gr

uffocating darkness

ock. Ti

ticking sound pier

yanked from the se

gs expanding so fast it hu

soft, silk-sheete

gh the gap in the heavy velvet curtai

the back of her head

ct. There was no blood. N

e scrambled up, her eyes

She saw the oil paintings of landsc

r heart hammered against h

her bedroom at t

hteen years

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Faking Love To Save The General
Faking Love To Save The General
“For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer. He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else. When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg. Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death. As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career. I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived. I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance. Then, I opened my eyes. I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self. Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled-the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power. I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage. "I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig." I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.”