Chapter 9 Who Hurt You?

Kelly struggled fiercely, gripping the towel tightly around herself. Fear and anger flickered in her eyes as she glared at Zev. "What are you trying to hide? I've already seen every inch of your body," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. Zev had always been mischievous, taking pleasure in bullying her. He had been bullying her for five years. Shaking with rage, Kelly suddenly raised her hand and struck him hard across the face. She knew that, without him, she wouldn't have made it back from the battlefield alive. But that didn't erase the nightmares he had left behind. They never stopped haunting her. "We were married for five years in Solmaris, yet the first thing you do when you see me is hit me?" Zev's voice carried a tinge of hurt. He was undeniably striking—tall and broad-shouldered, standing at six feet two, his chiseled features sharp and commanding. There was an untamed wildness about him, a fierceness in his mixed heritage that made him stand out, making it difficult for Kelly to be near him. Zev wasn't the kind of man who could blend into a crowd. No matter where he was—even in the desert—he seemed to dominate his surroundings. The first time Kelly met him, she was overwhelmed by his presence. She had once questioned him. If he was Drakonian, why had he chosen the path of a criminal, entangling himself with a terrorist organization? His response was blunt. He did it for profit—because, in the end, everyone lived for their interests. Zev had been involved in smuggling, a crime that eventually put him on the customs authority's wanted list. With nowhere else to go, he aligned himself with Lucas, the leader of a terrorist group, earning his trust. Zev's deep knowledge of military strategy quickly set him apart. He provided Lucas with tactical plans and became his closest advisor, second in command within the organization. Kelly signed sharply, "Shut up!" Zev was one of the few who could understand her sign language. With a sigh, he leaned against the wall and lifted his hands in mock surrender. "I came to give you a phone. Has your so-called loving husband even noticed you don't have one? What if something happens to you?" His tone dripped with grievances, each word a deliberate jab at Eric's neglect. He was barely holding back from outright saying Eric didn't care about her at all. "I don't need your fake concern," Kelly signed, her hands trembling slightly. Zev grabbed her wrist before she could pull away. "Do you even have a conscience? Do you call this fake? If not for me, do you think you would have survived Lucas' place?" Furious, Kelly tried to slap him, but he caught her hand effortlessly. His grip was firm yet careful, as though he could shatter her delicate wrist with the slightest pressure. For a fleeting moment, a softness appeared in his eyes, but it vanished instantly. Kelly knew Zev was malicious and always took pleasure in bullying her. But no matter how much he toyed with her, he had never truly forced her into anything. It had always been an act, a performance for Lucas. She had once asked him why he bothered protecting her. With a wicked smirk, he had answered, "Because you're beautiful. I'll wait for the day you fall for me and become my wife." Her response had been immediate and full of anger, "Forget about it. I'm married. I love my husband." Back then, she thought leaving Solmaris meant she was finally free of Zev. That her nightmare had ended the moment she stepped foot in Drakonia. But reality had proved her wrong. "Why are you here? Aren't you afraid I'll call the police?" Kelly signed. Zev said nothing. Instead, he pulled out a first aid kit, took hold of her wrist again, and began disinfecting her wound with iodine and cotton swabs. His expression darkened. There was a quiet anger simmering beneath the surface. After a long pause, he finally asked, "Who did this to you?" During those years of war and chaos, he had never allowed harm to come to her. He felt upset to see her injured in her homeland. "It's none of your concern." Kelly averted her gaze, trying to pull her arm free. But in that moment of frustration and helplessness, tears spilled from her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back. Zev didn't release her. He continued tending to her wound with a rare gentleness as if she were something fragile, something precious. Kelly refused to look at him. He was part of a terrorist group, a criminal. Although he had protected her for five years, it didn't erase what he was. She couldn't let personal emotions cloud her judgment—not when he was a traitor to the nation. "If I hadn't cared about you, you wouldn't have lasted this long," Zev muttered, tossing the used cotton swab into the trash. He pulled out a new phone, inserted a SIM card, and placed it in her hand. "My number is saved. If you're ever in danger, call me. I'm far more reliable than your terrible husband, who's already moved on." Humiliation and anger burned through Kelly. She didn't want to hear Eric's name—especially not from Zev. Without thinking, she raised her hand to slap him. But he was faster. He grabbed her and pinned her against the bed. "Looks like I've spoiled you too much." Zev's expression darkened as he forcefully yanked away her bath towel, his presence overwhelming, like a predator closing in on its prey. He always frightened her like that. Tears streamed down Kelly's face, uncontrollable and endless. This time, Zev was the one who felt panicked.