THE VOW OF PROTECTION

CHAPTER 5

Vince's voice was as smooth as butter. He looked around, taking in the sight of the room. The ever-fresh, long-lasting, sweet fragrance of lavender mixed with the light touch of tulip filled his nostrils. The curtains were closed, and the room was almost dark, but it was slightly glowing due to the blue and golden light from the tassels. He stretched his arms, embracing the tranquillity of the room.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on Freya's bed. It was messy, with her stuffed toys and blanket completely disarrayed. Vince's eyebrows arched upwards in confusion.

Freya was in the bathroom, about to start bathing, when she heard the Scottish brogue of her new bodyguard, Vince. She sighed to herself, her jaw tightly clenched, and her hands gripping the shower valves. She sighed deeply and began bathing.

Vince was about to call Freya's name again when he heard water running from the valves. He sighed internally.

"So, his little princess is bathing, huh?"

Vince scoffed, mumbling to himself. He started to look around the room, searching cupboards and shelves for something useful. But as he was browsing, he felt something was off. Freya had mostly outdated or almost shabby things.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

Vince whispered to himself.

"Isn't she the daughter of the nefarious Jefferson Anderson?"

As soon as Vince heard the bathroom door unlocking, he hid behind the curtains. His curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to know more about Anderson's family. He didn't know why he was doing this; he was here to accomplish his vow, not to interfere in their matters. But he was curious.

Vince peeked into the room from behind the curtains. He saw Freya step out in her bathing robe, switch on the room lights, and sigh heavily. She leaned against the wall, running her hands through her wet hair, oblivious to Vince's presence. But for Vince, it was not any less than a trauma to see Freya in such a condition. His fists were clenched like a spring, his neck veins popping out, and his eyes almost like they were holding a thousand midnights. He bit his tongue.

"What the hell, Jefferson Anderson?"

Vince thought to himself, his inner thoughts conflicted because of what he had just seen. He looked at Freya with intense eyes, his gaze roaming up and down her body as her back faced him. He could see her bruised and wounded skin, with blue and dark red patches, as she wore her nightdress. Vince's fists were tightly curled up. He saw Freya organize her bed, switch off the light, and crawl into bed with a pained expression. She laid down, closed her eyes, and fell asleep in no time due to unbearable pain and exhaustion.

As Vince heard Freya's soft snores, he quietly made his way out of her room without sparing a single glance at her.