She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 479

When Lyra shakily slid off the desk, Rowan caught her. She had been frozen in place ever since his last chilling remark.

"Let me carry you to the bed," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "You probably aren't used to this."

Lyra's face paled, and she slapped him hard across the cheek.

Rowan caught her wrist, his gaze turning predatory. "What are you doing?"

Chest heaving, her eyes swirled with humiliation and hatred. She was trapped in his iron grip, unable to pull away, forced to glare up at the man who was ruining her life. "I hate how you back me into a corner and trample all over my dignity!" she yelled, her voice trembling violently. "Rowan, how much longer are you going to torture me?"

Rowan's gaze darkened. "You feel something for me. Why won't you admit it? Your body is more honest than your mouth."

Lyra wrenched her wrist free, her shoulders shaking. "I feel nothing! Only disgust."

"You're getting faster at flipping the script," he scoffed. "Now you just put your panties back on and act like nothing happened."

Furious, her mind instantly went to the antique weaponry on display. She stumbled toward the bookcase.

A vintage rifle rested quietly in the corner, its cold metal gleaming under the light. But the moment her fingers grazed it, panic set in—she had no idea how to use a firearm.

Her eyes darted around the room until she spotted The Ceremonial Dagger.

The heavy hilt fit perfectly in her palm.

Lyra grabbed it, violently yanking the blade from its sheath.

The steel was pristine, the edge razor-sharp.

"Enough throwing tantrums," Rowan warned, watching her intently. "Don't play with weapons."

Lyra pointed the tip of the blade straight at him. "Go to hell."

Just as she gritted her teeth and lunged forward, he moved with blinding speed. His large hand clamped down on her slender wrist, and in a single, fluid motion, he twisted her arm painfully behind her back.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

Pain radiated through her bones. The Ceremonial Dagger clattered heavily to the floor, bouncing a few feet away, its metallic ring echoing in the quiet room.

Her strength was nothing compared to his. Her struggling, twisting, and desperate resistance were nothing more than a kitten scratching at a lion.

"And you definitely shouldn't... try to kill me."

His presence locked her in, wrapping around her until there was no escape.

"If you ever grab a weapon again," he warned, leaning in so close their faces almost touched, his tone dripping with danger, "I can't guarantee what I'll do to you."

Lyra shook uncontrollably under his intense scrutiny.

The fallen blade still gleamed on the floor.

The second Rowan loosened his grip, she suddenly dropped out of his hold, diving for The Ceremonial Dagger. She snatched it and scrambled a few feet away.

"I'll say it again. I don't like you."

"My body doesn't like you either."

"Let me show you my resolve."