My body was dragged sideways by a force that was both arrogant and domineering. I wanted to struggle, but my hand brushed against his chest. Through the fabric, I felt the cold, sticky wetness of his firm chest muscles, and the chilling, metallic liquid continued to seep out.
He groaned in pain.
I quickly moved my hand away, only to find it covered in a shocking amount of blood. I immediately stopped struggling and looked worriedly at the spot I had just pressed, even though it was just empty air. I knew—he was bleeding. It must have been from the wound that reopened when he chased after me.
"Lionel, your injury..."
"Shut up!" His low voice was strained.
Too nervous to speak again, I let him carry me toward the bedroom. After a few steps, his arms began to tremble. He took a deep breath and managed two more steps.
