Yet, she had already lost the chance to escape.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin eyelids drooped slightly, perfectly concealing the dangerous, predatory glint within.
He was like a fierce and terrifying beast, never letting go once it bit into its prey.
Ann Vaughn didn’t notice the fleeting strangeness in his deep gaze; her heart was tightening with anxiety, making her breathing slow, her thoughts chaotic.
He didn’t follow up on his words for a long time.
As if that sentence was merely the simplest form of irony.
The tension and anticipation gathered in Ann Vaughn’s chest gradually cooled until utterly cold, even her fingers stiffened.
Ann Vaughn lowered her eyes to hide the deep sadness that was about to overflow in her gaze.
What was she hoping for?
After a long silence, Ann Vaughn took a deep breath, forcing herself to pull out of the mire of disappointment, casually asking, "Before going to Marinia, have you thought about that question?"
"Hmm?" The dark light in Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes fully faded, calmly falling upon Ann Vaughn’s delicate face as always, "Dragon is very strict, can the delicate one endure it?"
Upon hearing those three words, Ann Vaughn’s red lips twitched in disapproval; how did she become the delicate one!
"It’s inevitable to endure some hardship to learn something; you mustn’t let Dragon dismiss me!"
Cyrus Hawthorne made no comment, his thin lips pressed slightly, saying nothing more.
Determined to make Cyrus Hawthorne see whether she was the delicate one, Ann Vaughn’s plan to learn self-defense from Dragon was set into motion.
Top floor gym at Villa No. 8.
Although Ann Vaughn was still daunted by this man who seemed to have crawled out from a pile of corpses, it proved she wasn’t wrong.
Dragon indeed had exceptional skills and a competent teaching approach.
—If she ignored the daily five-kilometer runs followed by three hours of horse stance he imposed, Ann Vaughn might appreciate his diligence.
Just a few days in, Ann Vaughn felt as though her whole body was falling apart, waking up in the morning with sore limbs, almost wishing for release.
But the flood in her mind at the time, Ann Vaughn couldn’t turn it into tears, and gritted her teeth to persevere. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ NoᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt
"Movements must be swift, without hesitation; even a second’s pause can be the key to the enemy’s comeback."
"Your basics are too poor; physical condition atrocious; there’s no shortcut but to make up for it."
"Put force in your elbow, aim for a fatal blow... did you skip breakfast?"
"You’re the worst among those I’ve taught; don’t go out and claim I taught you in the future!"
The relentless chastisement echoed in the gym, killing without trace.
A tall, elegant figure had stood by the gym entrance for a while, his presence shrouded in deep black haze, cold winds silently sweeping the region.
Behind him, Mark Joyce trembled all over, trying to minimize his existence to avoid being implicated.
Since the BOSS couldn’t bear for Miss Vaughn to be scolded, why have Dragon, the devil, teach her? Especially with BOSS’s skills surpassing Dragon’s.
"President Hawthorne," Mark Joyce couldn’t hold back, speaking softly, "Dragon’s training is so harsh even The Shadow Guard struggles, Miss Vaughn might be at her limit..."
Mark Joyce was guessing about Miss Vaughn reaching her limit, but he surmised BOSS’s patience was at its edge.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes revealed fog, his face showing little emotional shift, making it hard to grasp his true thoughts.
"She chose it herself; she must continue despite the pain."
After that, Cyrus Hawthorne slowly withdrew his gaze from the gym and stepped away.
Mark Joyce followed behind.
In the gym, Ann Vaughn was enduring Dragon’s verbal attacks, her inner thoughts cursed him as a "devil" continually.
Now, Ann Vaughn seriously suspected Dragon was retaliating against her because he couldn’t deal with Cyrus Hawthorne due to a six-year agreement.
He had made her repeat the kick-start move more than a hundred times.
Leaving the gym, Ann Vaughn felt like a top-grade salted fish, not needing salt, as sweat from exercise marinated her thoroughly.
She hurried back to her room for a hot shower, only then feeling alive again.
After putting on a bathrobe, Ann Vaughn approached the mirror, skillfully retrieving ointment from the drawer and pulling down the robe to apply it.
Dragon’s self-defense teaching wasn’t something to be learned just by remembering key points; engaging in fighting accelerated progress.
Inevitable bumps and bruises would leave bluish-purple marks on her body.
"Ouch—" The cotton swab touched her shoulder’s bruise, causing Ann Vaughn to stomp her foot in pain, her face crumpled.
The bathroom door suddenly opened from the outside.
Ann Vaughn looked back in shock to see Cyrus Hawthorne with a cold and somber face walk into the bathroom, directly behind her, seizing the hand she wanted to raise the robe with, looking down at the bluish-purple she tried to hide, seeing it clearly.
Her skin was as soft and creamy as mutton jade, with a little force from him, he could leave marks on it.
If it weren’t for serious turmoil, Cyrus Hawthorne would restrain his force to avoid hurting this delicate one.
Yet this delicate one, prone to claiming pain from a gentle rub, now bore bruises all over, refusing to plead for him to switch teachers.
The cold gaze fell on Ann Vaughn’s back, making her unable to ignore it and growing increasingly flustered.
"Why did you suddenly barge in? Get out, I’m changing clothes."
Feeling uncomfortable, she tried to withdraw the hand Cyrus Hawthorne’s grip held tight, only to find his palm’s strength abruptly pulling her closer.
The cool softness instantly rested along her graceful shoulder line.
The reddish bruise on that spot made Ann Vaughn cautious with applying ointment.
Yet when Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips pressed onto the bruise, unexpectedly it wasn’t painful; rather, it stirred tingling shivers that she couldn’t suppress.
Just like a spark, a tiny flicker could ignite an inferno.
"Is Dragon better than me?" The man suddenly spoke, warm breath brushing Ann Vaughn’s skin, making the back of her head tingle.
At this question, she felt a strong urge to roll her eyes.
Where exactly did he draw such a conclusion from?
"Of course not." Feeling some frustration, Ann Vaughn answered, attempting to break free from Cyrus Hawthorne’s grip yet to no avail, ultimately compromising.
"But," Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes revealed no changes, his voice chilling to the extreme, "you chose him."