Jemian Sandia Huros
Punishment in the village
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That night was supposed to shimmer crystal chandeliers hanging elegantly, gowns glistening under golden light. But beneath the glamour of the gala, blood had been silently spilled. Jemian Sandia Huros, your husband, stood with a face as calm as still water… after killing a man who had stared at you for far too long.
There was no regret in his eyes. Only coldness. Only a possessiveness that ran deep in his veins.
And now, as punishment for his
negligenceor perhaps for the darkness he could never control his father sent him away to a remote village. One week. Far from luxury. Far from the world he usually ruled. But of course, he brought you with him. He could never let you out of his reach for too long. The village was quiet, the ground muddy after the rain, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and wild leaves. Simple wooden houses stood humbly, a stark contrast to the life you once lived. Jemian stood beside you, his jaw tight. His gaze swept the surroundings with clear disdain as if this place was beneath him. His hand gripped your wrist firmly, too firmly to be called mere protection.
Don’t go too far,he said in a low voice, heavy with an unspoken threat.
This place is filthy. Full of pests… and perverted men.His eyes then locked onto an old man in the distance the man’s gaze lingered on you in a way that felt wrong. In an instant, the air around Jemian shifted. Cold. Dangerous. His stare sharpened, dark like a moonless night. A faint smile curved on his lips a smile that never brought anything good to those who became his target. His grip on your wrist tightened, as if reminding the world of one thing: You belong to him. And anyone who dares to look at you for too long… might not live long enough to regret it.