The mountain night breeze blew softly, gradually sweeping away the lingering despair that had been crushing Mila's chest.
In the dim, flickering light, she gathered her courage to steal a glance at the man carrying her.
From the corner of her eye, Mila could only see a sharp, defined jawline and lips pressed firmly together in a silent line.
Even so, she could feel the sheer height and power of his frame—he felt like a small, immovable mountain.
The embrace of his arms was strong and commanding, radiating a dominant masculine aura that felt both protective and overwhelming.
Mila felt a restless stir in her soul, yet she was too paralyzed by fear to even move a muscle.
Who is he, truly?
What does he have to do with me?
And why... why did he risk his own life to save me from the fury of those villagers?
Mila's lips trembled, desperate to unleash the barrage of questions swirling in her mind.
But then, the crushing reality set in: no one in this godforsaken place understood her language.
A suffocating sense of isolation gripped her once more.
That faint sigh of defeat—so soft it barely sounded like the hum of a mosquito—was caught by Erik's sharp ears.
He looked down.
Though he couldn't clearly discern Mila's features in the shadows, he caught the crystal-clear shimmer of her eyes, shining like distant stars in the midnight sky.
"If you truly do not wish to stay, I will set you free tomorrow," Erik said, his voice low and steady.
Mila's heart thundered against her ribs.
She wanted to look away, but she couldn't afford to lose her only lifeline of communication.
With painful caution, she whispered, "What did you say?" Her voice was hauntingly perfect, soft as silk.
Erik furrowed his brow, glancing at her with a flicker of suspicion.
What did she just say?
"Big Brother!"
Suddenly, a young boy came sprinting out from the courtyard of the Meyer family home.
He stared at Mila with a gaze that flickered between anxiety and raw curiosity.
"Is she dead?"
"No, Dante. Go, boil some water quickly," Erik commanded his younger brother with a brief, stern nod.
He then carried Mila inside, heading toward the room on the western side of the house.
The room was plunged in pitch-black darkness.
However, Erik moved as if he knew every splinter of the floorboards by heart; he stepped confidently toward the edge of the kang—the warm brick bed—and gently laid Mila down.
"Rest for now. I'll have Dante bring you some food later."
Mila didn't understand a single word.
The heavy darkness made her blind to her surroundings, leaving her senses raw.
When Erik suddenly released her and turned to leave, a wave of primal terror surged through her.
By reflex, her hand shot out, gripping Erik's sleeve tightly.
"Don't go..."
Erik froze, startled.
He turned back in confusion, only to be met by the glint of sheer, unadulterated terror in Mila's eyes, shimmering in the gloom.
In an instant, the cold wall around his heart softened.
"Don't worry.
No one will hurt you here anymore," he said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying an unexpected, soothing warmth.
Mila felt a flicker of safety, and slowly, her desperate grip loosened.
Erik said nothing more; he turned and stepped out of the room.
As he crossed the threshold, he ran into Zayn and Kai, who had just returned.
"Is that woman inside?" Kai barked.
Seeing his brother standing guard at the door, he immediately began rolling up his sleeves, looking ready to charge in.
Erik moved instantly, blocking his path and dragging his younger brother toward the kitchen adjacent to the west room.
"Kai! What has gotten into you?"
"Brother, stay out of this! A woman like that needs a good beating first, just to make sure she learns her place and doesn't try anything funny!" Kai shouted, his emotions boiling over as he tried to shove his way toward the room.
"You miserable bastard," Erik hissed, his face darkening with a murderous glint.
This time, he didn't just block the way; he issued a chilling warning.
"If you dare touch so much as a hair on her head, I will be the one to break you first."
Kai's face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson.
"But Brother, she's dishonest! If you let her off the hook this time, she'll be over the hills and gone by tomorrow!"
"And you think if you beat her, she'll suddenly want to stay and be your wife?" Zayn interjected, casting a cynical, biting look at his impulsive younger brother.
He then turned to Erik, his expression unreadable.
"So, Brother, what's the plan?"
Erik looked Zayn deep in the eyes, his voice ringing with finality.
"First thing tomorrow morning, I will personally escort her out of these mountains."
"What?!" Kai's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"You're just going to let her go?!"
Zayn's brow furrowed, his disagreement evident.
Even little Dante, who was tending the fire at the stove, looked up with a face full of disappointment.
Truth be told, Erik's own heart felt heavy.
It wasn't just his brothers; he felt the sting of the loss himself.
He was twenty-three this year, and his fourth brother was already sixteen.
Except for Dante, they were all grown men in desperate need of a wife.
And that woman... she was captivating.
Zayn and Kai clearly wanted her, and Erik himself couldn't deny her extraordinary beauty.
In this impoverished village, it was common practice for brothers to share a wife.
The problem was, it was nearly impossible to find a woman who could satisfy everyone's tastes at once.
But this woman clearly wasn't willing, and Erik refused to take a risk that might end in tragedy.
He didn't want his family to become as cruel as the Sam family.
"It's decided. I'm taking her down the mountain at dawn," Erik reinforced.
He noticed the empty water basin and grabbed a bucket to head for the well.
Panicked, Kai lunged forward, grabbing the pole of the bucket to stop him.
"Brother! I want her! I want her to be my wife!"
Erik stared at his brother, who had now grown taller than himself.
He swallowed back the stinging words that threatened to surface.
"Kai, have some patience. I've been saving up. In a few more days, I'll find someone to help us look for a good wife from outside."
"No! I don't want anyone else! I want the one in that room!"
Erik's expression turned dangerously dark.
"You cannot have her."
"And why not?" Zayn joined in, feeling their eldest brother was being far too soft.
"We've broken our backs for years to save enough to buy a wife. Are we really just going to throw that away?"
Zayn, fearing Kai might do something reckless, pulled the younger boy aside.
He tried a more diplomatic approach with Erik.
"Brother, I think we shouldn't rush this. Remember, Felix is coming home in a few days. Why don't we wait for him before making a final decision? Felix is educated; he has a bright future. Maybe this woman doesn't like us because we're rough and uncultured, but she might actually take a liking to Felix."
At the mention of Felix—the handsome, gentle brother—Erik hesitated.
Seeing the crack in Erik's resolve, Zayn gave a subtle nod to Dante.
The youngest immediately ran over and clung to Erik's arm.
"Brother, please! Let the pretty lady stay! I like her so much. She's way more beautiful than any of the girls in the village!"
Erik ruffled the boy's hair, his heart swaying, though his pride tried to hold firm.
"One more thing, Brother," Zayn added, his tone turning grave.
"Even if you mean well by letting her go, have you thought about what will happen to her out there? She's already been sold in the market; her life is already shattered. What if, after you release her, she's snatched up by even worse people and sold into a hell we can't even imagine?"
That sentence struck Erik like a physical blow.
He stood in silence for a long moment before finally letting out a long, weary sigh.
"Fine. We wait until Felix returns. But mark my words: without her consent, not a single one of you touches her. Especially you, Kai!"
"Got it, Brother!" Kai grinned widely.
To him, as long as the woman didn't leave, everything else could be figured out later.
Zayn offered a faint, thin smile, his eyes drifting toward the western room.
Behind the slightly ajar door, Mila flinched and ducked back into the shadows.
Her heart was racing.
Did that man see me? She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but even then, it didn't matter—she still couldn't understand a word of their heated debate.
"Dante, is the water hot yet?" Zayn asked, his eyes gleaming as if he knew a small figure had just been peeking.
"Yes, Brother!" Dante chirped.
"Pour it into the basin and bring it to the west room." Zayn lit a small oil lamp and carried it into the room himself.
A sliver of light entered the chamber, slowly chasing away the darkness and painting the room in a warm, flickering orange glow.
Mila curled herself even tighter into the corner of the stone bed, her eyes wide and wary as they locked onto the stranger who had just entered.
This man was incredibly tall; he had to duck his head just to clear the doorframe.
Once inside, he placed the oil lamp on a large wooden chest, then turned and offered Mila a smile.
It was a captivating smile, sincere enough to reach his eyes—it looked clean, pure, and disarming.
The kind of smile that could make anyone drop their guard.
But Mila remained vigilant, her heart cold with suspicion.
Who is this one? He isn't the man who carried me.