THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED

CHAPTER 5

THE GRAVE AND THE GATE 2

Damien quickened his pace as the cry came again, louder now, and this time more clearer. .

"Help! Someone, help!" the voice was shook, filled with desperation

When he finally reached the gate, he found a woman near the roadside, surrounded by three men. Her hair was disheveled and her blouse was torn at the side, revealing the girdle she wore underneath. The three men laughed as they pushed her around, tossing her amongst themselves like she was a rag doll. 

One of the men–short, with a blind eye–pulled her arm and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You keep screaming, little thing,” he whispered as he popped out a pocket knife, “and I'll run this blade down your throat." 

The woman twisted and turned in his grasp as she tried to writhe herself out of his hold. "Let me go,” she screamed, her voice now weak as she realized her efforts were futile. "I won't tell anyone. Please just let me go.”

He let go of her as though listening to her pleas, but then pushed her toward another before she could make any movement. “Oops.” Another—tall, ginger haired, with a scar that ran down the side of his cheek—moved to the side just as they tossed her in his direction. The lady tripped on a loose root and sprawled forward into a puddle of mud.

Damien's grip on the gate tightened, his knuckles cracking as he took in the scene before him–the men laughing as they picked her up and began pulling her down the path leading deeper into the forest. Her eyes met his as tears ran down her cheeks, but they snapped her head to the side, tearing her gaze from his. 

But still, she cried out again, and the wind carried her begging. “P-Please," she screamed, her voice raw. "Help me, sir. Help.”

"Shut up,” the short one growled as he stopped, placing his blade under her chin and lifting her eyes to his. “There's no one to save you out here.”

Her lips trembled as her gaze slowly shifted to meet Damien's stare. The man paused, following her eyes until they landed on the gentleman standing by the gate. 

“What's this?" he muttered to Damien's hearing as he stood up straight, flicking his knife close. “You trying to be a knight in shining armor here?" 

The others grunted and chuckled. "Oh, look at his eyes,” one–brown-haired with a missing front tooth–jeered. “He clearly wants to join in on the fun." 

Damien's eyes dropped briefly to the knives in their hands- cheap, dull blades- and then to the woman shaking on the ground. He exhaled softly through his nose, shaking his head.

“Let her go,” he said quietly.

First, there was silence, and the air seemed to still, tensed with the weight of Damien's words. The three men looked at each other, then back at Damien, before bursting out laughing. 

“And if we don't?" the short one said as he took a step forward, lifting his shirt up, revealing a gun. “I suggest you run back, sir. You ain't got no business here." 

Damien looked at the Glock, a brow arched. His face was calm yet mixed with a hung of amusement. “You carry that everywhere you go?" he asked casually as he began walking toward the guy. “You do know the safety's not on, right?" He paused, a few feet from the guy and looked up at him. “Any wrong move and your balls would blow off." 

The chuckles and jeers reduced, a confused expression crossing their faces. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by angry frowns. The guy looked down at the gun and mumbled a curse before clicking on the safety. 

“You've done your job," he said after bringing his shirt down. “Now, fuck off." 

Damien refused to move and his defiance angered them the more. With a low grunt, the one in front motioned for the other two to come, and they let go of the lady before marching to his side.

“I'll tell you one last time, fuck boy," he whispered, his breath, tainted with the stench of tobacco, poured on Damien's face. “Fuck off, or you take her place–”

Before he could finish talking, Damien's fist landed on the side of his face with a loud crack, sending him straight down. “Alright," Damien sighed, flexing his bloodied wrist. “Who's next?" 

The remaining two looked down at the fallen boss before looking back up at Damien, eyes red with rage. The first attacker yelled as he lunged, swinging the knife towards Damien's chest. But before the blade could even reach him, Damiwn stepped to the side and caught his hand midair. 

The thug's eyes widened.

“Wrong move,” Damien said calmly. Then, with one sharp twist of his wrist, he snapped the mans hand and the knife fell from his hand. 

“Ugh," he groaned, clutching his broken wrist just as Damien let go of him. Before he could even take another step, Damien swung his leg under him and he fell to the ground head first, blacking out instantly. 

“Idiot," Damien murmured, flicking his hand. 

“Oh… shit,” the one he has punched first groaned as he put his arm under him in a bid to get up. "Oh… my teeth… my fucking teeth." 

Blood pooled from his mouth, carrying his broken teeth to the floor. His eyes widened, his breathing heightening as he looked up at Damien with rage in his eyes. 

“You… fucking broke my tee–” He couldn't finish his words as Damien snapped his leg forward, kicking him right in the jaw. His head dropped down onto the small pool of blood under him, unconscious. 

Damien looked down at his stained show and grunted. It was going to take him forever to have that cleaned now. 

His gaze lifted up to the last man who was now trembling with fear. “You want to go next?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

The thug shook his head frantically, his lips quivering as he tried to form words. “P-please–don’t kill me, man. We–we didn’t mean it. It was just–”

“Go," Damien said as he walked toward him. “If you come back, I'll make sure you end up worse than your friends." 

The man looked at his friends who still laid their unconscious before nodding. He quickly turned and scrambled into the woods, half-falling over himself.

Damien turned from the fleeing man to his still colleagues. He watched their chest rise and fall slowly and nodded. After making sure they were still alive, he turned to the woman he had just saved. 

She was on the ground, her breathing slow and ragged. Kneeling beside her, he placed her head on his lap, opening her eyes and staring at her pupils. They were dilated and her breathing had slowed. Her cheeks were also flushed and when Damien checked her pulse, he found it racing wildly beneath his fingers. 

“H-help me," she whispered weakly, as she stared into his eyes with tears in her eyes. 

Before Damien could ask what was wrong with her, she collapsed into his arms. His face darkened as he noticed she was burning up. She was drugged and if the effects weren't flushed out soon, she was going to be…

“Shit," Damien cursed as he lifted her into his arms and walked back to the city.