Chapter 250: Chapter Two Hundred And Forty Nine
The spy let out a gasp as his hands fell free. He rubbed his sore wrists quickly, getting the blood flowing back into his fingers.
As soon as the spy realized his hands were free, his entire demeanor changed. He was no longer a helpless victim tied to the floor. He was a rough, hardened man of the lower city streets, and he had just been slapped twice by a spoiled, arrogant girl.
The spy pushed himself up from his knees. He stood up, towering over Isabel.
Isabel looked up at the angry man. Her blue eyes widened in sudden fear.
Before Isabel could even take a single step backward, the spy raised his large, rough hand. He swung his arm with brutal force.
SMACK!
The spy returned the slap back to Isabel. The physical force behind the man’s strike was heavy.
Isabel cried out in pain. Her head jerked violently to the side. The force of the slap nearly knocked her off her feet. She stumbled backward, her hand flying up to cover her stinging cheek. A bright, burning red handprint instantly bloomed across her pale skin.
Isabel was shocked. She stared at the man in disbelief.
"How dare you lay a hand on me?" Isabel shrieked loudly. Her voice was shaking with offended pride. "I AM A NOBLE!"
She was so furious that she completely lost her mind. She raised her hand to strike the man again, fully intending to slap him for his insolence.
But the man was ready for her.
As Isabel swung her arm forward, the spy easily reached out and caught her wrist firmly in mid-air. He held her arm tightly, stopping her attack.
With his other hand, the spy swung again.
SMACK!
He gave her a second hard slap across the other side of her face.
Isabel screamed. Her face felt hot and severely stinging. Both of her cheeks were now burning with bright red, painful marks.
Tears of pain and humiliation rushed into her eyes.
Isabel yanked her wrist free from the man’s grip. She stumbled backward, crying heavily. She looked frantically across the room toward the desk.
She expected the General to draw his sword. She expected him to protect her honor. She expected him to kill the man for touching a noble lady.
But Damon was not moving.
Damon sat comfortably in his chair. He was resting his chin on his hand, looking at the entire violent drama with a perfectly flat, uninterested expression. He did not care about her burning cheeks. He did not care about her tears. He looked exactly like a man watching a very boring stage play.
Isabel realized, with a crushing weight of despair, that the General was never going to save her. He had orchestrated this entire humiliation on purpose.
The spy turned away from the crying girl. He walked over to the desk. He fell heavily onto his knees right in front of Damon.
"My lord," the spy asked respectfully, bowing his head. "Is this enough?"
Damon looked down at the kneeling man. He let out a slow, quiet breath.
"I am in a good mood today," Damon spoke smoothly. His deep voice carried a calm authority. "So I will not kill you."
The spy let out a shaking gasp of relief. He pressed his forehead to the floor.
"But," Damon continued strictly, his tone hardening. "You broke the law by spying on my family. You will be punished by military law."
Damon looked up at Kade.
"Give him thirty lashes," Damon ordered firmly. He paused for a second, analyzing the spy’s quick reflexes and survival instincts.
"And then recruit him into the army. Put him in the scouting division. He has a lot to offer if he is trained properly."
The spy lifted his head. His bruised face broke into a huge smile. He was not going to die, and he was being given a secure job in the most powerful army in the kingdom.
"Thank you, General! Thank you!" the man cried out gratefully, bowing repeatedly.
"Take him away," Damon instructed.
Kade grabbed the man by the arm. He led the grateful man out of the command tent, leaving Damon and Isabel completely alone in the quiet room.
Isabel stood near the center of the tent. She was holding her burning cheeks, crying loudly. Her dress was wrinkled. Her perfect hair was messy. Her pride was entirely shattered.
Damon stood up slowly from his chair.
He walked around the desk. His boots made slow, deliberate sounds against the ground. He walked toward Isabel.
Isabel saw him approaching. She thought he was finally coming to comfort her. She lowered her hands and looked up at him with wet, hopeful eyes.
Damon stopped right in front of her.
He did not raise his hand to wipe her tears. He did not offer a soft word.
With sudden, terrifying, explosive speed, Damon reached out his right hand.
He grabbed a thick handful of her blonde hair. He gripped the hair incredibly tightly and pulled her head forcefully backward.
"Ah!" Isabel whimpered loudly in fear.
The sharp pain in her scalp forced her to look up into his face.
Damon bent his tall body down slightly. He brought his face very close to hers. His dark brown eyes were black with fury. He stared into her terrified blue eyes. His strong fingers dug deeply into her scalp, holding her trapped in his unyielding grip.
"I won’t kill you," Damon whispered. His voice was a deadly, freezing rumble that sent terror straight into her bones.
He tightened his grip on her hair just a tiny fraction, making sure she felt his control.
"But know that this is the last time I am letting you go," Damon warned her strictly. "I am only sparing your life today for the sake of our families’ past. For the sake of your grandfather and mine. That is the only reason you are still breathing."
Isabel whimpered again, her whole body shaking violently against his hold.
"Next time," Damon promised coldly, his eyes burning with dark fire. "I won’t hesitate."
He leaned in one inch closer, delivering his final command.
"Stay away from me," Damon ordered softly, his voice dripping with venom. "Stay away from my marriage. And stay away from Camilla."
He stared deep into her crying eyes to ensure the message was permanently burned into her brain.
"I don’t give warnings twice," Damon stated firmly. "Be very careful from now on."
With a sharp, powerful motion, Damon forcefully let go of her hair. He shoved her shoulders roughly backward.
Isabel stumbled heavily on her feet. She almost fell onto the ground, but she managed to catch her balance. She stood there, trembling.
Damon turned his head toward the entrance of the tent.
"Guards!" Damon called out loudly.
Two heavily armored military guards immediately rushed into the command tent.
They saluted sharply.
Damon pointed a strict finger at Isabel.
"Throw her out," Damon ordered coldly, his voice entirely empty of any pity. "And I don’t want to see her around this premises ever again. If she approaches the camp gates, arrest her."
The guard on the right immediately stepped forward. He grabbed Isabel firmly by her arm, not caring about being gentle.
"As you wish, my lord," the guard nodded his head respectfully.
Damon turned his eyes toward the desk. He pointed at the woven basket of food that Isabel had brought to impress him.
"Take this filth out of my sight," Damon commanded the other guard, his voice full of disgust.
The second guard quickly walked to the desk. He grabbed the woven basket.
"Right away, my lord," the guard replied obediently.
The guards dragged the humiliated noblewoman out of the command tent. They carried her food basket away to be thrown into the trash.
The canvas flap fell shut behind them.
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