Pray, Wait for Me on the Road to the Yellow Springs

“After hundreds of men have had their way with you, do you really think Prince Nolan will still want you?” Damien sneered, every word dripping with vicious humiliation.

Nonsense. That could never happen! Serena’s mind snapped back, defiant and unyielding.

Even if I, Serena, were powerless, I’d never let myself fall so low. Not in this lifetime.

Damien’s icy lips crashed down on hers, and Serena felt a wave of sickening disgust. But she didn’t struggle—she let him kiss her, face blank, eyes cold and murderous, glaring at him with pure fury.

Damien reveled in her helplessness, biting Serena’s lips until the taste of blood drove him wilder. His hand gripped her hips, squeezing hard, hungry for more.

Shame and rage burned through Serena. Her fingers tightened around the scalpel, already aimed at Damien’s back. She didn’t strike yet—she was waiting, lining up the perfect spot for a single, fatal blow. She wouldn’t give him another chance to hurt her.

Damien’s hands slid up Serena’s waist. Behind him, she traced the scalpel along his spine, gathering strength for the attack.

One strike—if I pierce the spinal canal and pulp the cord, even if Damien survives, he’ll be crippled for life. Serena calculated coldly, her medical knowledge sharpening her resolve.

She waited until Damien’s hands reached her chest. In that instant, Serena’s eyes flashed with killing intent—her grip tightened, and she drove the scalpel straight into his spine.

“Damien, go to hell.” Serena spat out the words, voice cold as death.

With a vicious thrust, Serena drove the scalpel deep into Prince Damien's spine. He howled in agony, but she barely heard him—her grip tightened, twisting the blade, relishing the sickening crunch as bone and marrow gave way.

Blood smeared Serena’s lips, the taste sharp and metallic. She wiped it away, her resolve hardening.

Good. Even if Prince Damien doesn’t die here, he’ll be crippled for life. That was enough.

“Serena, you’re courting death!” Prince Damien snarled through the pain, lunging to grab her throat—only to realize his body wouldn’t obey.

Why can’t I move? Panic flickered in Damien’s eyes.

Prince Damien stared at Serena in terror. She gave a cold, blood-tinged smile and yanked the scalpel free, stabbing him again without hesitation.

The scalpel was small—better to stab several times, just to be sure. Serena’s clinical instincts overrode any mercy.

“Ah…” Damien groaned, writhing in pain, and flung Serena aside.

Serena crashed to the ground. Damien drew his sword, desperate to kill her, but his body wouldn’t respond. With a strangled cry, he toppled face-first onto the earth, completely limp.

Why is this happening? Damien’s mind reeled, disbelief and terror flooding him.