The Tyrannical Wolf King's Contract Bride-Chapter 61: The Wolf King Appears

Lila’s POV

Anger and grief roiled in my chest, threatening to burst from my throat in a heart-rending scream. This art studio, the warmest sanctuary of my childhood, now resembled a desecrated tomb, every inch of air thick with suffocating dust and humiliation.

Just as I was about to lose control, a familiar presence washed over me from behind.

There were no footsteps, no warning—just a powerful arm suddenly wrapping around my waist, and a calloused palm clamping down hard over my mouth. My entire body was locked tight in a solid embrace, unable to move.

"Mmph—!" I struggled in terror, ramming my elbow backward and kicking my feet wildly.

The person behind me grunted, his breath catching for a moment, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he pulled me even tighter, as if trying to merge me into his very bones.

"It’s me." His voice was low, laced with a suppressed gasp as it brushed against my ear. "Don’t make a sound. There are people outside."

Jasper.

The name exploded in my mind, a bolt of lightning that split through my chaotic thoughts. I bit down, hard, sinking my teeth into the palm covering my lips.

The metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth—warm, briny, and carrying his unique scent, like a pine forest on a snowy night. His body went rigid with pain, but he didn’t pull his hand away. He only drew me closer into his embrace.

"Are you crazy?" he whispered in my ear, his voice tinged with a mix of helplessness and pain. "Are you trying to attract everyone on the entire street?"

I finally recognized the owner of the voice, but the flames of fury inside me only burned hotter.

’Am I crazy?’

’He actually dared to ask if I’m crazy?’

’I’m more clear-headed than I’ve ever been! Clear-headed enough to see the texture of his every lie, clear-headed enough to smell the decaying stench of betrayal in this house!’

Using the last glimmer of light from my phone before it fell, I twisted violently, breaking free of his hold with all my strength. I spun around and slapped him.

SLAP—!

The crisp sound echoed through the small art studio.

He didn’t dodge, just took the blow. His head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. It was hard to tell if it was from my bite or my slap.

"What gives you the right?" My voice trembled, as if squeezed from the depths of my throat. "What right do you have to be here? What right do you have to control me?"

He raised a hand to touch the corner of his mouth, his eyes as dark as night.

"Because you’re my wife," he said in a low voice.

"Bullshit!" I laughed, furious. "Don’t use such a grandiose term for a ’birthing tool’!"

I pointed at the wreckage all around us. "This, did you do this? Did you have someone destroy this place? Or was it my uncle, Richard? Have you two been in this together all along? You’ve been lying to me from the very beginning, haven’t you?"

My voice grew higher and higher, nearly tearing through the stagnant air.

He suddenly reached out, yanked me close, and quickly turned off my phone’s flashlight with his other hand.

Darkness swallowed everything once more.

"Enough!" His voice was kept extremely low, yet it carried an undeniable authority. "This isn’t the place to talk. Come with me."

I was trembling all over, not from fear, but from rage and helplessness.

’I want to know the truth.’

’But I’m more afraid that the truth will be more painful than the lies.’

Seeing that I had finally stopped struggling, he released his grip on me, but still held my wrist tightly, as if afraid I would disappear the next second. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Let’s go," he said in a low voice, pulling me backward.

We backed out of the art studio silently and closed the rickety wooden door behind us.

The moment I stepped outside, I sensed something was wrong.

Under the moonlight, the yard had somehow filled with people. Dressed in black clothes, black pants, and tactical boots, they lurked silently in the shadows of trees, at the corners of walls, and on the roof, like a host of nocturnal phantoms. They held weapons, their gazes sweeping vigilantly over the surroundings, forming an impenetrable protective circle.

It was Jasper’s security detail.

The most elite guards of Moon Hidden Villa.

I violently shook off Jasper’s hand and took three steps back, putting distance between us.

"I’m not going back with you." I stared at him, my voice as cold as ice. "I’m not going back to Moon Hidden Villa. I don’t trust you, I don’t trust your protection, and I don’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth."

I turned to leave, my steps unsteady but firm.

"Lila."

He didn’t follow, just stood where he was. His voice, low and weary, came from behind me.

"Don’t you want to know why your uncle, Richard, turned this art studio into what it is now?"

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Then, he slowly pulled something from an inside pocket.

It was a photograph.

In the moonlight, three young, vibrant faces stood side by side. My mother’s smile was so bright, my father’s gaze so gentle, and my uncle, Richard—he stood on the far right, one hand on my mother’s shoulder, the other casually tucked into his pocket, his smile wide and unguarded. There wasn’t a hint of distance or estrangement between them.

It was a "past" belonging to my parents and my uncle that I had never seen before.

But this "past" was like a rusty key, violently jamming its way into a door deep in my memory that I had personally welded shut.

’Were my parents and my uncle truly "family"?’

’If they were, why did he send me to an orphanage immediately after my parents’ death, while he took over this house for himself?’

’And if they weren’t, then what was this photograph? An elaborately designed facade?’

My fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the photograph. The paper was coarse, with the tiny frayed edges left by time. It was too real—so real that I couldn’t deny it, nor could I avoid it.

Jasper stood before me, silent, just watching me quietly. The print of my palm was visible on his face, a trace of blood still lingered at the corner of his mouth, and on his wrist was the deep red, blood-beaded imprint of my teeth. He hadn’t wiped them away or bandaged them, simply leaving the wounds exposed to the moonlight like a silent testimony.

"Lilith invited Zoe over to the house today," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "Zoe found it in the study."

My head snapped up. "Zoe?"

"Yes." He nodded. "It’s a clue she found after messaging you this morning."

My mind went blank with a buzz.

Zoe... The same Zoe who always acted like she wasn’t afraid of anything. The Zoe who would publicly splash red wine on Penelope for bullying me, then drag me away with her head held high. The Zoe who, after I married Jasper, was the first to smile and say "Congratulations" to me...

’She’s been helping me all this time.’

’But I... I hadn’t even been answering her calls or reading her texts.’

A sharp pang of guilt, mixed with a deeper anger, stabbed through my heart. Guilt over my coldness toward her, and anger that—why must everyone’s kindness come at the price of a lie? Why does everyone who gets close have some ulterior motive?

Not far away, footsteps approached, accompanied by the low crackle of static from Jasper’s earpiece.

Jasper said nothing more. He simply extended his hand toward me, palm up, open in the moonlight. On it was the imprint of my teeth, still faintly oozing blood.

I didn’t take it.

But he didn’t pull it back, either.

Finally, I moved.