The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 637: I will drag you back by your tail, and I will torture you
"I have a past," he said quietly.
Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."
Cyrus almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat. His expression tightened again, eyes turning heavy with pain.
"I came from Fifth City," he admitted.
Isabella’s expression did not change much, but inside her mind, pieces clicked into place. The wrist binding charm. Kian’s recognition. Cyrus’s stiffening.
She did not interrupt.
Cyrus continued, voice low, as if he feared the walls themselves might hear.
"In Fifth City... there are people who trade rare beasts and females like they are livestock," he said. His hand clenched as he remembered the past and everything that had happened to not just him but also the poor people.
"They do not only buy and sell. They also capture. They use trained men, marked and controlled, to locate mountain beasts and drag them down."
His eyes flickered as if seeing something else.
"I was useful to them," he admitted bitterly. "Because I could sense rare beasts in the mountains. I could follow spiritual traces. I could find what others could not."
Isabella’s chest tightened. She had guessed something like this, but hearing it spoken out loud still made her stomach twist.
She could also see from looking at Cyrus how much he hated talking about what happened in his past.
She could only imagine how much suffering he must have gone through. She felt her heart clench just at the thought.
"They made you do it," she said trying to keep her emotions in check.
Cyrus nodded, jaw tight. He was still scared of Isabella hating him for his past. But he already made up his mind that since she was his mate now it was only natural she knew everything about him.
"They sent me on missions," he continued. "We captured beasts. Sometimes we captured men. Sometimes... females. Fertile female who would be used for reproducing, rare males who would be locked up and sometimes trained for more capturing. I did not choose it," he said, voice rough. "If I refused, they would punish the others."
He paused. His breathing shook slightly.
"The men I call brothers are not my real brothers," he said. "They were just boys like me, raised in the same place, controlled the same way. We grew up together. We survived together."
His gaze lifted, eyes burning with a fierce light now, like a snake lifting its head from tall grass.
"When I realized what Fifth City truly was, when I realized we were never going to be free, I made a decision," he said.
He swallowed hard. "I helped them escape. I broke the tracker charm on my wrist. I fled."
Isabella watched him carefully.
She expected guilt, tears, shame.
Instead, what she saw was a man who had carried chains for so long that even freedom felt like a crime.
"And you ran until you found me," Isabella said softly.
Cyrus’s lips parted. His eyes softened painfully.
"Yes," he whispered. "And when I met you... I thought I could finally be someone else."
His gaze dropped again, voice trembling.
"But Fifth City does not forget," he said. "They will come. If they found those attackers, if they recognized that charm... they may already be searching. And if they come here..."
His eyes snapped up, desperation raw.
"They will hurt you," he said. "They will take you. They will take our babies."
Isabella’s heart clenched, but her face stayed steady.
"So you were thinking of leaving," she said.
Cyrus froze.
His silence was answer enough.
Isabella stared at him for a long moment, then reached out and cupped his face with her hand. She did it gently, not allowing him to pull away this time.
Cyrus’s breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly. He did not move. He looked like someone terrified that if he blinked, she would vanish.
"I am listening," Isabella said calmly. "And I am not judging you. You are here now. That is what matters."
Cyrus’s eyes trembled. His throat tightened.
"But I..." he began.
Isabella cut him off immediately.
"But nothing," she said. "If Fifth City comes, we fight. If they send enforcers, we kill them. If they think they can buy people like livestock, we show them teeth."
Her hand slid down to his chest, fingers resting there firmly, as if anchoring him to the present.
"And you," she added, eyes narrowing, "will not leave."
Cyrus stared at her.
Isabella leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something dangerously gentle.
"If you leave," she said, "and I look for you, I will find you. Do you understand. I will drag you back by your tail, and I will torture you."
Cyrus blinked.
The words were harsh, but the way she said them was so Isabella that it was almost ridiculous. She sounded like a small angry queen threatening a giant snake who had tried to slither away.
For a second, his tight expression cracked.
A short laugh escaped his throat, rough and surprised, like he hadn’t laughed properly in a long time.
Isabella’s lips curved faintly. "There," she said. "That laugh proves you are still alive inside. Now promise me."
Cyrus swallowed, eyes shining.
"I promise," he said quietly. "I will not leave."
Isabella nodded, satisfied.
"Good," she said. "Because if you try, you will learn that a pregnant woman can still be terrifying."
Cyrus’s chest shook with a small, real laugh this time. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently to hers, careful of her belly, careful of the softness in her eyes.
"I am sorry," he whispered. "For pulling away."
Isabella huffed softly. "If you pull away again, I will bite you."
Cyrus’s eyes widened slightly, then softened with warmth. "If you bite me, I will accept it."
Isabella rolled her eyes, but her heart finally loosened.
Outside the corridor, winter wind scratched at the stone palace walls. Somewhere far away, bigger cities watched and planned. Inside this village, Isabella’s hand rested on Cyrus’s chest, and her gaze was sharp with a promise that did not need to be spoken aloud.
They could come.
This time, they would find a village that had teeth.
...
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