Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Chapter 468: CarryHAurora tried to pull herself out of his arms, but the man tightened his grip instead.

She was certain that Julian was already fast asleep. The way he clung to her was purely instinctual, a subconscious fear of her leaving.

Seeing him like this, Aurora's heart softened. A moment ago, she had been wondering if this man once loved someone else.

But how could she let such thoughts linger when, even in his dreams, he held her so protectively? Leaning down close to his ear, she whispered softly, "Julian, I'm not going anywhere. I just need to clean up." Only then did his hands unconsciously loosen their hold. Slipping quietly out of his embrace, Aurora looked back to see Julian still lying in the sposition as before, unmoving.

In the bathroom, she carefully washed herself. Traces of the marks he had left on her from before still lingered, and now, there were new ones.

Back when they were at home, it was always Julian who gently cleaned her up afterward. She could only imagine how exhausted he must have been this time.

Aurora cleaned herself up first, then turned her attention to him. She fetched disinfectant and bandages from a nurse.

Julian remained in the ssleeping position, as though she had never left. Aurora brought a small stool to sit beside him.

Carefully, she began unwrapping the scarf from his hand. Despite her caution, the movement still tugged at his wound, and she froze, fearing she might wake him.

Luckily, Julian was too tired to open his eyes. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't stir.

Using a warm towel, Aurora wiped the blood from his hand with meticulous care, afraid to cause him any pain. Normally, even the slightest noise would wake Julian. But tonight, his body was so drained that he remained completely unconscious.

After cleaning the wound, she wrapped it neatly. It wasn't perfect, but it was far better than before.

Once everything was done, she turned off the lights and climbed back into bed. The moment she lay down, Julian pulled her back into his arms as if he couldn't stand to be apart from her for even a second.

In the darkness, Aurora's fingers traced the contours of his face. She touched his brows, his eyes, his nose. In this life, she wanted nothing more than to grow old with this man.

Whatever Daria's story may have been, it was all in the past now. Denis Vukic had mentioned before that Daria had died for Julian.

If that were true, the situation back then must have been dire. If it hadn't been Daria, would it have been Julian instead? After calming herself, Aurora thought through everything carefully. Reaching this point in their relationship, she knew she should treasure what she had with Julian even more.

With this thought in mind, the knot in her heart unraveled. Nestling into Julian's arms, she drifted into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious apartment adorned with black décor, a tall man stood in a spacious room.

On the wall hung an enormous painting, covered by a black cloth. It was impossible to see what lay beneath.

The man reached up and tore the black cloth away. The fabric spiraled to the ground, revealing a grand golden frencasing a massive oil painting.

In the middle of a sunflower field stood a girl with a ponytail, her smile radiant, her teeth gleaming white.

The painter's skill was exceptional, capturing the girl's gaze with stunning precision.

Her smile seemed to leap from the canvas, infecting anyone who looked at her with warmth. It was as if she were standing right there beside you, her laughter echoing in the air.

And you-standing amidst the vibrant, golden sea of sunflowers-could almost feel the soft breeze, see the distant green hills, and gaze at the endless blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.

In terms of concept, realism, and technique, it was a masterpiece.

The man stood motionless before the painting, his usually cold features shadowed by an overwhelming sadness.

He murmured two words under his breath. A gust of wind blew through the nearby window, scattering his thoughts.

"Daria... Daria..." Those two simple words carried a weight that could bring tears to the eyes of anyone who heard them.

In his mind, her face appeared once more-the lively girl, full of spirit.

One memory after another played like a film in his head, starting with the moment he first met her.

That day, his mother had brought a delicate little girl into their home.

"Denny, this is the Daria I told you about. From now on, she's your sister. You have to take good care of her and never bully her," his mother had said.

The little girl, hiding shyly behind his mother, peeked out with eyes like a startled fawn. In a soft, childish voice, she introduced herself, "I... I'm Daria." Denis Vukic had always been more mature than other children his age. His mother had already told him about the new addition to their family-a little girl left orphaned after her father, a comrade of his father's, died in service, and her mother took her own life shortly thereafter.

After careful consideration, his mother had decided to adopt the girl. She had spent a long tpreparing Denis for her arrival. Denis didn't throw a tantrum; he knew his parents had made up their minds. What right did he have to object? From a young age, he had despised the childish tantrums of his peers. To him, such behavior was pointless and a waste of time.

If you're loving the book, nel5sis where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience Tall for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! When he met Daria's gaze, he reached out and took her hand. "My nis Denis Vukic. You can callDenny. I'm a year older than you." "Okay, Denny," the little girl replied, clinging tightly to his hand.

Only later did he discover the mischievous nature hidden beneath her initial shyness. "Wait for me, Denny!" "No. Keep up." "Just because your legs are longer doesn't mean you're better!" she huffed, cheeks puffed out like an adorable chipmunk.

"..." Denis, ever the quiet child, said nothing.

"Ow, my foot hurts!" cher tic cry from behind him. When he turned around, she was already sprawled in the mud.

Unlike him, who always strove for perfection, Daria was a walking disaster, capable of causing chaos in the blink of an eye.

Covered in mud, she looked up at him with tearful eyes. "I twisted my ankle, "I Denny. Sighing, Denis walked over. She held out her arms expectantly. "Carryhome," she demanded.

He hoisted the mud-covered girl onto his back. Her eyes curved into crescents, brimming with triumph like a cunning little fox.

"Denny, you're the best!" she chirped. Whenever she was happy, she would call him Denny instead of "brother." mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLliIofifl0&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1