CHAPTER 78: THREATS (2)

Albin’s face instantly changed to that of a demon, frightening Wina.

His tanned hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking the small woman toward the toolshed.

Memories of the night Dilan had tried to force himself on her flashed in Wina’s mind. Instinct took over.

"HELP!" she screamed.

"Stop yelling!" Albin hissed, glancing around the empty field. "Save that for when I’m already on top of you."

His lips twisted into a greedy smile. "Once that happens, we’ll never be apart again."

Like hell she would allow that. She screamed even louder, thrashing against his grip.

Before he could drag her into the shed, she wrenched her arm with all her strength, finally breaking free. The force sent her stumbling to the ground, her ankle twisting painfully. She pushed herself up, desperate to escape—

—but he was faster. His hand clamped down on her hair, yanking her back with a vicious tug.

"Akh!" Wina cried out in pain.

"After all these years, you’ll finally be mine," Albin snarled, his laughter taking on a mad, fevered edge.

"Why are you doing this, Albin? Elder Abram will be very disappointed in you!"

"To hell with that old fool! He married me off to a woman I didn’t even like, and now look at me—no children at my age! If I’d married you back then, I’d have a house full of kids by now!"

The middle-aged man’s voice cracked like a spoiled child denied candy.

"Marrying Lita wasn’t just your parents’ decision, it was yours too. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten just because it’s convenient now. It’s over!" Wina said through gritted teeth, pain flashing in her eyes as he yanked her hair.

Albin’s hand jerked violently, snapping her head back. A few strands tore free from her scalp. There was no love in his gaze, only a rabid obsession to claim her.

He dragged her forward by her hair.

Srukk.

He managed only a single step before a sharp ice spike erupted from the ground, stopping a breath away from his throat.

Wina’s eyes widened. She knew exactly who had summoned it. Looking past the glimmering shard, she saw Fian standing at the top of the slope leading down into the village.

His gaze was cold enough to freeze stone, and for a moment, it seemed he might kill anyone who dared stand in his way.

"Fian!" Wina shouted.

Albin froze. Realizing how close he’d come to death, his eyes darted until they locked on the elf. In an instant, he understood whose magic had nearly skewered him.

"L–Liner..." he stammered, stumbling back a step.

Fian approached slowly, each step deliberate, his face an unreadable mask.

The man under his glare panicked. "I—I didn’t do anything!"

Akh!

Mid-step, another ice spike shot from the ground, this one driving straight through the sole of Albin’s foot. Blood dripped onto the frozen shard.

With a strangled cry, he yanked himself free, clutching his bleeding foot before bolting away in a limping run. Luckily for him, Fian hadn’t made the spike tall enough to pierce all the way through.

Feeling gloomy, Wina and Fian headed straight home.

Gara noticed their state the moment she stepped in.

"Mom, what happened?"

Her hair was a mess, her clothes dirt-stained, eyes red and wet with tears. Fian’s jaw was tight, his hands clenched.

Reluctantly, Wina recounted the encounter with Albin.

"Mom, we have to teach that bastard a lesson!" Gara’s voice was thick with fury.

"How, Gara? Even with Captain Tristan’s help, we can’t do anything. He hasn’t technically done anything yet."

"At the very least, he should learn what it feels like to be threatened." Gara’s lips curved into a smile, but his eyes didn’t.

...

Albin limped out of his house, heading for the back bathroom. His foot was wrapped in cloth and smeared with a bitter-smelling herbal paste, but the pain still gnawed at him.

He told anyone who asked that he’d stepped on a trap. No way was he admitting Fian had done it. That would be the same as confessing he’d tried something indecent with Wina.

As long as he keeps quiet, Wina couldn’t touch him, as she didn’t have any proof.

After finishing in the bathhroom, he stepped out, whistling.

The night was as dark as ever, the only light coming from the lantern mounted behind his house. He was halfway to his door when a shadow swept past him—

—and everything went black.

The dark silhouette shouldered the unconscious man and carried him toward a massive tree. Waiting beside it was a man with a big baby bump.

Without a word, the pregnant Gara knelt, tying Albin’s wrists and ankles before gagging him with a strip of cloth.

After that, Gara and Fian didn’t exchange a single word. They simply took off running, weaving through trees and over gnarled roots that snagged at their feets.

Even though Gara was pregnant, his stamina had only grown stronger.

What began as a nightly run through the dense woods and over rough, rooted ground to the field, to avoid the villagers, unintentionally became his exercise routine.

Gara’s eyes flicked toward Fian’s tall frame and broad shoulders. The delicate side he’d shown three months ago was gone, buried beneath a physique that only needed steady meals to fully reveal its strength.

It was a sight Gara found... very much to his liking.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how much he ate, his own appearance stayed stubbornly soft and delicate.

Either every bit of that food went straight to nourishing the baby, or he simply wasn’t built to look masculine at all.

Not long after, they crossed the herb field, and Gara splashed water onto Albin’s face before moving ahead so the man, slumped over Fian’s back, wouldn’t see him.

Albin’s eyelids twitched. His head thudded against Fian’s back, and it took a few moments before awareness returned.

The trees looked wrong, upside down. Herbs also upside down. Herbs?

Panic flared, he instantly knew that he was far away from the villager house. He began struggling as hard as he could.

...