2

Hot — unbearably hot.

A thunderclap exploded. Harper shot her eyes open.

Lightning tore through the darkness.

She froze. Is this hell?

An abandoned construction site. A heavy iron gate locked tight… and the raucous sound of people playing cards drifted from outside.

Her eyes narrowed. She really had… been reborn.

Shock and terror hit her so hard she almost couldn’t breathe.

She’d gone back to that night nine years ago.

Because she’d tried to run from the marriage, Young Master Gallagher had locked her in here. His men had beaten her, raped her…

The nightmare crashed over her like a flood. Harper’s hands shook uncontrollably.

No. This time she would not let it play out the same way. She had to get out.

She moved — only for the old chair under her to creak.

The voices outside stopped.

“Boss, there’s movement in there. Maybe the girl’s awake!”

Men burst through the door. The leader didn’t hesitate — a heavy fist smashed into Harper’s face.

Stars exploded behind her eyes; a metallic, sweet taste flooded her mouth.

She clenched her fists, stubbornly lifted her head, and glared at them.

“What’re you looking at? Be smart and let us have our fun, or we’ll kill you!” one man sneered, waving a knife across her face.

“Get away! Don’t come near me!”

“Oho — this chick’s got spirit…” they laughed.

The battered metal gate rattled in the wind, making a dull, eerie noise.

The moldy air carried a nauseating mix of scents.

Harper’s constitution was unusual and she was a pharmacology expert — she recognized the gas on their breath.

Poison. Hallucinogens that loosened their senses, letting them swing wildly at her — beating and smashing her face.

“Just let us have our way and you’ll suffer less,” one snarled.

They tore at her clothes brutally. The shameful scenes from her previous life rolled into her mind like a plague.

Fear tightened her chest till she couldn’t breathe.

In a fierce reflex, she bit down on a man’s ear. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

“Ah! I’ll kill you!” he screamed. Harper snatched his knife and pressed it to his throat behind his ear.

Spitting out a chunk of ear, she warned, “Don’t come near, or I’ll gut him.”

The threat snapped them to partial sobriety; they hesitated, wary.

The man she held still tried to struggle. He grabbed at her throat and she drove the blade through his palm.

In the chaos and howls, Harper leapt through a window and ran.

Rain hammered down over her as she fled the ruins; in the black night her eyes shone like something wild.

She ignored her weakness and ran until she reached cover under a nearby eave.

A trembling figure stood there. It was Theo Callahan.

In her previous life she’d tolerated that bastard’s nine years of “impotence” and, in return, he’d been part of the rot that ruined her. He’d even fathered a child with Phoebe.

Hatred had lodged in her bones.

Blood smeared on her face, she radiated a cold, lethal aura. Theo took a step back, unnerved.

Perfect.

Harper licked the iron taste from her lips with a hungry tongue. She felt like a lion sizing up its prey.

After the assault in her former life, Theo had been the one to appear and “clean up” the mess — and she’d been so grateful she agreed to marry him.

Now she realized he’d been hiding here the whole time, eavesdropping.

She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms, teeth grinding with fury.

“Theo, run! This place is dangerous. Let’s find somewhere safe to talk!” she said, suddenly taking his hand and pulling him toward a “good spot.”

They didn’t stop until they reached the factory storeroom.

By the fence sat a chained iron cage; inside it lived a terrifying guard dog.

“Harper… why are you covered in blood? You… you didn’t—kill someone, did you?” Theo panted, eyes wide with fear.

Harper’s gaze chilled. “It’s my blood.”

“Your blood? How—?” He circled her, puzzling over the soaked clothes. “There aren’t any wounds…”

“Theo, the ticket — didn’t you say you’d take me away tonight?” she asked, frost in her voice, making his breath catch.

“I—”

“You didn’t buy one, did you? Or were you too worried I’d drag you into murder?”

He froze. Was this sharp‑tongued woman the Harper he’d known?

“Harper, you’re misunderstanding me and Phoebe. Nothing’s going on. Trust me — if you marry me we’ll leave Belvia right now!”

At this point, he still expected her to fall for the trap they’d laid?

Harper’s eyes narrowed. She looked at the huge dog cage behind Theo.

She remembered that dog.

In her last life it had been infected with rabies, bitten someone, and died soon after.

Now it paced frantically in its cage; its bloodshot, glassy eyes were like those of a mutated animal — and it was in the dangerous active phase.

“Fine,” she said, and then, with a voice that cut like ice, “I’m cold. Could you give me your clothes?”

Her look was dangerous.

He hesitated. “My clothes are soaked—”

“Theo, I’m so cold… really cold…”

She hugged herself and bit her lower lip, suddenly coy.

Theo’s protective instincts flared. He took off his jacket and handed it to her.

“And your pants…” she purred, leaning close so her breath brushed his ear.

He wanted to refuse, but her seductive act worked. He handed them over.

The moment the jacket and pants were in her hands, Harper yanked open the dog cage with a fierce motion.

The hound lunged out, unleashed fury, and slammed into Theo, ripping into his lower body until it was a bloody pulp.

Amid his screams, Harper walked away with composed steps, laughing aloud in the rain.

‘Theo, since you like to pretend you’re impotent, I’ll do you a favor. I’ll cut off your root of trouble.’

***