Roman and Julienne's heart desire-Chapter 190: Blood, Breath,Belonging And Protected

"I-it’s o-okay," Rachel whispered, her voice breaking apart as the words left her mouth.

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, warm and relentless, blurring her vision.

Her hands trembled so badly she had to curl her fingers into tight fists to stop them from shaking.

Even standing upright felt like a battle, her knees weak beneath her weight.

Still, she forced herself to stay there—forced her body to remain where it was—because she knew what that money could do. It could buy food. It could keep the lights on.

It could give her and her mother a few more days without hunger gnawing at their stomachs.

But knowing that didn’t make it easier.

If she accepted this, she would be stepping into something dark—something she knew was wrong.

Something that would trap her in a cycle she might never escape.

Even though she wasn’t a virgin, even though life had already taken things from her unfairly, she wasn’t reckless enough to choose this kind of existence willingly.

The thought alone made her chest tighten painfully.

She shook her head slowly, a small, helpless movement, as if refusing herself more than him.

"Can you please... add something?" Rachel asked, her voice trembling uncontrollably. Fresh tears spilled over, dripping from her chin. "Please."

The man studied her closely, his gaze slow and deliberate. He lifted a hand to his jaw, rubbing it thoughtfully as though considering a purchase rather than a person.

His eyes roamed without shame, lingering where they shouldn’t, making Rachel’s skin crawl beneath his stare. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Since you’re beautiful," he said slowly, "and still so fearful... it only proves you’ve been taken once or twice." A smirk tugged at his lips. "You’re not used to this, hmm?"

Rachel’s breath hitched. She felt exposed—stripped bare without a single piece of clothing removed.

The way he looked at her made her feel small, powerless, like an object being examined rather than a human being standing there in pain.

"And that fear," he continued, his voice low and thick, "those tears on your face..." His gaze darkened. "They only add fire inside my body, baby."

Rachel flinched at the word.

Her senses felt overwhelmed all at once—the heavy air, the faint smell of alcohol, the sound of muffled voices somewhere beyond the curtains.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears.

She felt trapped, cornered by circumstance and desperation, her body betraying her as it trembled despite her efforts to stay strong.

She stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes, afraid that if she did, she would break completely.

Just get through this, she told herself desperately. Just survive this moment.

But even as she stood there, forcing herself not to cry out loud, a quiet voice inside her screamed that this wasn’t survival—it was surrender.

And the weight of that realization pressed down on her chest until breathing felt difficult.

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing tears across her skin, and swallowed hard. Her throat burned. Her pride lay shattered at her feet.

Still, she stood.

Because hunger was cruel.

Because desperation was louder than fear.

And because sometimes, the hardest battles were fought in silence.

"Okay. One hundred thousand yuan," the man said, his tone final, almost bored. "I believe that’s enough for you now, so let’s get down to it."

The words landed heavily in the air.

Before Rachel could fully process what he meant—before her mind could catch up to her body—everything happened at once.

Strong hands grabbed her arm and shoved her forward.

She stumbled, losing her balance, and the next thing she knew, she was thrown onto a long couch nearby.

The impact knocked the breath out of her chest.

The worn fabric felt cold beneath her palms as she tried to push herself upright, her heart racing wildly.

Her eyes flew up in panic just in time to see the man standing over her, already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes widened in pure shock as his fingers worked quickly, deliberately, undoing each button as though this was nothing more than routine.

The sound of fabric shifting, the faint clink of buttons, felt unbearably loud in her ears.

No... no... her mind screamed.

Instantly, she retreated inward, clinging desperately to the only thing she could.

Just imagine him as Logan, she told herself frantically. Okay? Just imagine it’s Logan. Everything will be alright.

Her vision blurred as tears spilled over again.

She wiped one away roughly with the back of her hand, smearing it across her cheek, forcing herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Her chest felt tight, as if something heavy was pressing down on it.

"Yeah... here we are," the man said, his voice low and satisfied. "Come on, babe."

He finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it aside carelessly.

Then he stepped closer, his presence looming over her, blocking out the dim light.

His hands moved next to his waistband, fingers beginning to work at his trousers.

Rachel’s body stiffened completely.

Her fingers dug into the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white.

She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him anymore.

She stared at a spot just past his shoulder, her ears ringing, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

Behind the thin curtain, just a few steps away, movement stirred.

A hand shot out suddenly, gripping another wrist tightly—hard enough to stop it mid-motion. The tension in that single act was sharp, restrained, dangerous.

"What are you doing here, bro?" a voice whispered sharply from behind the curtain.

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, as if something had just been interrupted—something on the verge of breaking loose.

"Let go of me, Logan. I swear I’ll kill this man today," Maxwell growled, his voice low and vibrating with barely restrained fury.

His hands trembled violently, fingers curling into fists so tight his knuckles paled.

Logan tightened his grip on Maxwell’s arm at once. "You need to calm down," he said urgently, lowering his voice.

"Tell me everything. Now."

Maxwell shook his head sharply, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. His eyes burned with something dark—something dangerous.

It was unmistakably them.

Maxwell—the man who had been acting as Logan all this time.

And Logan Steve—the real one, standing here now, alive, awake, back from the coma.

"Rachel is inside," Maxwell said suddenly, his voice dropping, thick with urgency.

Logan froze.

His eyes widened in pure shock. "What?" The word left his mouth like a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

"Yes," Maxwell said, inhaling deeply as if forcing himself not to explode. "You heard me."

His gaze flicked toward the curtain, sharp and focused. "She really needs me."

Inside the room, the man remained oblivious—far too engrossed in Rachel to notice the tension building just steps away.

Rachel herself was frozen in place, fear gripping her so tightly she couldn’t even turn her head, couldn’t bring herself to look for help she wasn’t sure existed.

"Let me call th—" Logan started.

He never finished.

A broken whimper slipped from behind the curtain.

A soft, desperate please followed, barely audible—but to Maxwell, it sounded like a scream.

The man’s trousers hit the floor.

That was it.

In a blur of motion, Maxwell ripped the curtain open with brutal force.

The sound echoed sharply through the room.

Before anyone could react—before even Rachel could understand what was happening—all she heard was a low, animalistic growl.

She squeezed her eyes shut instinctively as the man moved closer to her, unaware that danger had already entered the room.

She didn’t see Maxwell charge forward. She didn’t see the fury on his face or the way his entire body moved with lethal precision.

The next second—

Impact.

"Ahh!" the man cried out as Maxwell’s fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the air straight out of him.

His body folded instantly. Another punch followed just as fast, snapping his head sideways.

Rachel’s eyes flew open in shock.

Her breath caught painfully in her chest as she stared.

Maxwell—the man she believed was Logan—stood between her and the danger now, his back to her, his body like a wall.

His movements were fast, controlled, merciless. Every strike landed with purpose. No hesitation. No mercy.

The man collapsed onto the floor, barely conscious, groaning weakly as Maxwell continued, driven by nothing but rage and instinct.

He didn’t look at Rachel.

He didn’t speak her name.

He didn’t have to.

Everything he did screamed it.

Each punch said you touched what was mine to protect.

Each movement said you will never come near her again.

Each breath he took was fueled by one thought alone—she was afraid.

Maxwell had no idea Rachel was watching.

She stared at him, her eyes wide, heart pounding—but something else spread through her too. Relief. Safety. Warmth.

Without realizing it, her lips curved upward slightly, a fragile smile breaking through her fear as the tension finally released from her body.

She was safe.

Suddenly, another figure rushed into the room.

"Logan—stop!" a voice shouted, grabbing Maxwell from behind, trying to pull him away.

The man on the floor was barely conscious now, completely defenseless.

Maxwell struggled, breathing hard, his entire body still vibrating with fury—but Rachel was no longer alone.

And that was enough.

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