Love Unspoken

Quinn's eyes were wide open, riveted on the newcomer. Her gaze travelled from his long legs, up to his waist, and finally rested on the curve of his mouth. It was Walter.

Never in her wildest dreams had Quinn imagined that Walter would be the one binding her. She writhed in her restraints once more, but it was futile. The ropes bit into her wrists and ankles, holding her captive and leaving her with nothing but the desperate plea in her eyes as her only form of communication.

Walter closed the distance between them, bending down slightly to lock eyes with the terrified Quinn.

"Quinn, you seem surprised," he said, his voice laced with a feigned tenderness.

"And why wouldn't you be? After all, who would have thought it was me? I wonder if Alexander has pieced it together yet?" His voice was gentle, almost casual. If Quinn hadn't been bound, she might have mistaken his tone for friendly banter. Quinn's eyes shimmered with unvoiced questions as she held Walter's gaze steadfastly.

Walter's smile deepened, and he playfully quipped, "You're wondering why I brought you here, why I kidnapped you, aren't you?"

She clamped her lips together, revealing nothing. But indeed, these were the very questions that haunted her.

Walter extended his hand, his fingers icy as they brushed her face, sending shivers down her spine.

"You really can't remember anything, can you?" he mused, his eyes momentarily clouded.

Quinn stiffened, her eyes filling with confusion.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Suddenly, Walter's fingers clamped onto her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Looks like you need some help," he said. Quinn could only guess at his intentions, but the smile on his face sent a shiver down her spine. His grip tightened, threatening to crush her jaw. Pain twisted her features, and tears streamed down her face, dampening Walter's hand.

Despite his smile, his eyes were devoid of warmth, his actions belying his gentle facade.

Before Quinn could recover from the pain, Walter jerked his wrist, and she, along with the chair, crashed to the floor. Her head hit the ground with a thud, darkness clouding her vision, a ringing noise pulsing in her ears. She lay there in agony, her eyes shut tight. She was unable to even cry out, gasping for air instead.

Then, with a sharp tug on her hair, Walter hoisted her up.

"Forgetting is no problem. I'll help you remember," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. But to Quinn, it sounded more like a devil's chant.

Coldness seeped in from all sides, penetrating her pores and freezing her blood. Finally, she regained her composure and opened her eyes to stare at the man before her.

Her instincts had been right all along. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

For two years at The Kennedys, everyone had thought him to be humble, amiable, and approachable.

Now, exposed in front of Quinn, was the most terrifying side of him she had ever seen.

Quinn shifted her wrists, which were bound so tightly she couldn't communicate with Walter.

He didn't seem interested in communicating with her either. His only interest appeared to be in tormenting her.

Yanking her hair, Walter pulled her upright forcefully.

Pain shot through Quinn's scalp. Her neck felt as if it were being strangled, making it hard to breathe.

When she was finally sitting up, he released her hair. His fingers were sprinkled with strands torn from her head.

She had once merely been wary of him, but now, fear was an understatement.

She shrank back, briefly tilting the chair so far it nearly toppled. The fear forced her to sit still, her gaze meekly lowered. Lifting her chin, Walter compelled her to look at him.