I didn't respond to her, but my heart sank, heavy and cold.
A skin graft surgery?
And he used my skin?
Right then, I remember the first year of our marriage.
Duncan and I went abroad on a business trip. Our location was accidentally exposed. An enemy faction laid an ambush at the hotel.
The moment I stepped out, someone lunged at me with a knife. Luckily, I reacted fast and dodged in time. Even so, the blade grazed my arm, peeling away a bit of skin.
It was hardly a wound and just a tiny scratch, but it had driven Duncan into a blind rage. That very night, he stormed the enemy stronghold with only three men by his side. The one who had injured him didn't even have time to scream before Duncan sliced off his right hand. Three men faced off against over a hundred, yet Duncan moved in and out like a ghost.
When I saw him again, he was lying in the ICU, bloodless and pale.
I cried until I couldn't breathe.
Then, he'd pulled me into his arms like it was nothing.
"Lauren, don't cry. As long as I'm here, no one will lay a finger on you. I will protect you for the rest of my life."
How ironic. The man who swore to protect me was the one who now cut my skin off with his own hands. I closed my eyes, my lips twitching with a voiceless laugh.
Shaina had lost her patience. She reached out, gently stroking the wound on my back.
The next second, her fingertip dug straight into my torn flesh. She wanted to hear me scream, to watch me writhe in pain. But what she didn't know was that a woman like me, who's danced on the edge of blades for half her life, would never let someone like her step on me.
A cold smile curled on my lips. I grabbed a fistful of Shaina's hair and slammed her head against the operating table.
"You?" I sneered. "You think you're worthy of laying a hand on me? Crushing you would be easier than squashing an ant. You're still alive only because I think you're filthy. I didn't want to stain my hands with trash like you."
I leaned closer, my smile growing colder by the second. "But now, I've changed my mind."
Then, I pinned Shaina down, picked up the surgical scalpel, and pressed the blade to her back. Her shrill screams echoed through the operating room as I sliced off the patch of skin that once belonged to me.
"Since Duncan gave you this without my consent, I don't think it's too much for me to take it back."
The door swung open with a loud crash. The man who had once stood by my side through blood and fire now rushed in like a knight rescuing his beloved princess. I couldn't tell if I felt sorrow or regret; I just stood there, stunned, watching as they fell into each other's arms.
Duncan shoved her behind him, grabbed the scalpel from my hand, and, without hesitation, stabbed it straight through my other palm.
Pain exploded through my body.
"Lauren!" he snapped. "I arranged that surgery to help you, to atone for what I owe you. Why must you keep making things worse?! If you really hate me that much, then kill me already. Stop hurting innocent people!"
He was ruthless enough to cripple my second hand that I could not form words through the pain.
"Lauren," he said darkly, "I didn't hold back because I love you. It's because I owe you. But my patience has limits. If there's a next time, I promise that it won't end with just your hands."
His eyes held a cruelty that was no longer theatrical; there was murder in them. I did not know whether to laugh or to weep.
But in that moment, I understood that the man who once knelt before me at eighteen, swearing to marry me, the man who would've given his life for me at twenty-eight, that man was dead.
Shaina clung to his sleeve, her voice trembling through her sobs. "Duncan, she's crazy. Let's not deal with her anymore. Take me away, please. I don't want anything else. I just want you."
In response, Duncan held her gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Alright. Wherever you want to go, I'll go with you."
Those were the exact words he had spoken to me ten years ago.
