villainess'ss Secret Service

c49

49 hopeful realization

Damien's regal, golden eyes widened in utter shock as they ran over his fiancee's body, tied with ropes and drenched in sweat. At first, disbelief clouded his thoughts why would Rosalie be in such a dire situation, restrained in such a demeaning manner? Yet, there she was, and the sight of her in such misery ignited an intense rage within him.

Overwhelmed with a torrent of emotions, he hurried to her side and skillfully freed her from the cruel bondage, draping his jacket around her shivering, nearly lifeless form, and drawing her close against his broad, protective chest. Her slightness in his arms only fueled his fury further. With Rosalie held firmly, he turned towards the exit of the freight carriage and bellowed, his resonant voice echoing like thunder,

"Everyone, surround the equipage! Julian! Get here this instant!"

The grand duke's commanding voice resounded, piercing through Rosalie's overwhelming exhaustion. Slowly, she summoned the strength to open her heavy eyelids and graced the scene with a faint, yet relieved smile, her pale lips parting to let her soft voice emerge,

"Your Grace... Thank God... You caught him."

Her faint, hushed words only served to deepen the ache in Damien's heart. He held her even tighter, stepping out of the carriage to be met by his loyal knights forming a protective wall around the trading equipage, where Raphael Ashter was being restrained by Sir Michael, being pushed forward towards the grand duke.

The sight of Lord Ashter's indifferent expression cast a dark shadow of anger and disgust across Damien's face. With resolve, he drew his long black sword and pressed it firmly against the man's neck, all while keeping his sister protected and supported with his other arm.

"You disgraceful piece of trash!"

Damien's voice resonated with anger as he advanced, the sharp tip of his sword almost piercing Raphael's skin. In that heated moment, he was prepared to cut him down, treating him as nothing more than a worthless insect.

"Your Grace!"

A wise knight intervened, preventing the duke from committing a grave mistake. Meanwhile, Raphael's cold gaze shifted to his sister, who hung lifelessly over Damien's broad shoulders. He let out a mocking scoff, his arrogant demeanor resurfacing, much to Damien's annoyance.

"It must be killing you right now, Your Grace. The fact that you still cannot do anything to me, and even if I were to be tried for treason, it still won't be you who will get to execute me."

Damien felt his blood boil with rage; his vision turned red as the soaring madness filled up his aching mind. And, going against his better judgment, he slowly pressed the tip of his sharp sword even further into the man's neck, watching as the bright red blood began to flow from the freshly formed wound. He then took another big step toward Lord Ashter and hit him in the head with the heavy handle of his sword, his experienced movements almost invisible to the naked eye, knocking Raphael unconscious.

As the man fell to the ground with a loud thud, Damien turned to one of his subordinates and said in a low, commanding voice,

"The report will state that he tried to put up a fight and run away. I had no choice."

Michael nodded solemnly, concealing his inner turmoil, and delivered a swift kick to Lord Ashter's stomach, pretending to stumble as he lifted the man up.

"Your Grace! You need to see this!"

Sir Krystian's voice called out from within the freight carriage, a mix of confidence and concern evident in his tone. The duke returned to the coach and followed the knight to the farthest corner, where Rosalie had been found just moments ago.

Sir Krystian moved one of the pelts closer and skillfully cut it open with a knife, revealing another person hidden within.

"This is the last sewn pelt, declared as an 'item of significance,' and astonishingly, there were eleven people hidden within them, including Her Ladyship."

With a sharp focus, Damien appraised the opened pelts neatly arranged atop the pile, his deep golden eyes narrowed in contemplation, and his dark eyebrows furrowed with concern. All ten men lay unconscious, their still chests almost deceivingly resembling lifelessness.

Drawing nearer to one of the men concealed in the pelt, he ran a gloved hand over the man's face, then cautiously brought it closer to his nose, sniffing delicately like a seasoned hound.

"Sleeping powder mixed with opium. This concoction is solely employed on courtesans in the Tulip Room."

The duke elegantly wiped his hand on his trousers, his thoughts lingering on the troubling discovery. With a long exhale, he explained,

"This is the reason why there was nothing suspicious during the border inspection. The people concealed within the pelts were rendered unconscious, making them appear lifeless. Thus, even if they were to face suffocation, they would offer no resistance and go unnoticed."

He then gently touched one of the furs, running his hand over its soft surface, lost in contemplation.

"It was indeed cunning to request a permit for the so-called "items of significance"... It seems he wasn't acting alone, after all. Who would have anticipated this?"

"Where shall we direct the searching party, Your Grace?"

Sir Krystian maintained a serious demeanor, patiently awaiting his commander's direction, while Damien scanned the interior of the carriage once more, pondering his decision, before finally providing a response,

"Lord Ashter's estate, the Tulip Room, the border inspection office, and Baron Blanche's tailoring warehouse. Arrest everyone who has ever collaborated with Lord Ashter, even if it was just once."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Exiting the carriage, the knight left the door ajar, allowing Laith to observe Grand Duke Damien as he stepped out, still holding his fiancee tenderly against his chest. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of confusion and elation. Her impulsive act had yielded results, and now she would finally witness the resolution of one of Damien's cold cases.

And it was all thanks to Rosalie Ashter.

'Perhaps the person I should have been wary of was not Lady Ashter after all... How peculiar.'