Wanda dangled helplessly from the chains that bound her wrists, suspended in the dim light of the chamber. Her body trembled as if every nerve had been stripped bare. She was not tall, barely one meter sixty-five, but her proportions were striking slender limbs, a graceful waist, curves that carried both strength and elegance. Though her frame was not as commanding as Natasha’s, she carried her own kind of allure, a delicate beauty that seemed sharpened by the torment of her current state.

A black half-mask still clung to her face, concealing her eyes and nose while leaving her lips exposed. The contrast only heightened her presence. Her pale skin, flowing chestnut waves of hair, and the vivid crimson of her lips combined to create an otherworldly aura. The mask, intended to shield her identity, now served only to accentuate her beauty, like an ornament rather than a shackle.

Rowan reached forward, his fingers curling around the mask. With a swift tug, the fabric came free.

Her full face was revealed. Smooth, fair skin caught the flickering light, her high nose and soft cheeks giving her an elegance that took even Rowan aback for a fleeting moment. She looked young perhaps his own age, perhaps even younger but already her beauty was unmistakable.

Rowan tilted his head slightly, his arms folded, fingertips brushing his chin as he considered her.

“What should I do with you…” His tone was calm, detached, as though he were discussing the fate of an object rather than a living soul.

He knew Wanda’s heart was not truly malicious. She had been shaped by circumstance, driven into Hydra’s clutches. And her potential her raw, untamed power was undeniable. To bind that power to him would be useful. Yet facts could not be ignored. Wanda and her twin brother Pietro had invaded his domain. They had raised their hands against him, against Shuri and Helen. No matter the reasons, no matter their grievances, they had become enemies the moment they crossed that line.

To spare her now simply because she was beautiful or powerful would be weakness, and Rowan had long since shed such naiveté. Power brought choices, but it also demanded clarity. He had no time to play the indulgent fool.

If she bent the knee, good. If she resisted, he would cut her down.

He was not here to coax obedience with kind words or gentle promises. His patience had no room for such indulgence.

As Rowan weighed her fate, Wanda stirred. A sharp cry escaped her lips as the pain in her wrists jolted her back to consciousness. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes cracked open, and the first thing she saw was him.

Her body trembled violently.

Memory surged back like a crashing tide Pietro, the battle, her desperate struggle, and then darkness. She jerked her head around, panic igniting in her chest as she saw the chains.

“Pietro!” Her voice broke, raw with fear. Her brother’s injuries had been grave. She didn’t even know if he was still alive.

“You… you let me go!” Wanda’s voice was sharp, desperate. She forced her wrists against the chains, crimson energy flaring around her hands. The glow crackled against the metal, but the sound that followed was only the harsh clatter of vibranium links grinding against each other.

Rowan’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “Let you go? Did you truly come here without the slightest sense of what it means to be an intruder?”

Her breath caught. His words were like a cold blade pressed to her throat. He was right. She was the one who had invaded. She had chosen to fight him, and now she was the one at his mercy.

Her strength bled away, leaving her slumped in the chains. Her head dipped, shoulders sagging as her will faltered. For a moment she seemed like a doll with its strings cut, trembling in defeat.

But then she lifted her gaze again, tears glimmering at the edges of her lashes.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Save Pietro. Don’t let him die. We… we’ll do whatever you want, just don’t kill him.”

Her tone was pleading, fragile as glass. She looked so soft, so breakable in that moment that anyone else might have mistaken her for harmless.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, though a small flicker of amusement touched his lips.

“And what exactly could you offer me?” His tone was cool, detached, the words meant to crush hope. “Do you think I need weaklings like you as my subordinates?”

The truth sank into her chest like a stone.

He was right again. Rowan had crushed them with ease. His strength eclipsed theirs by an immeasurable gulf. Why would a man like him need Wanda or Pietro? He had allies already two scientists who were not merely brilliant minds but fighters armed with suits of armor. If even they carried such power, then what value did she and Pietro hold?

Her throat tightened. A hollow despair opened inside her. She was nothing. She had nothing.

Her tears spilled freely now, hot trails down her pale cheeks. She could face her own death if she had to. But Pietro her brother, her other half she could not stand by and watch him slip into the grave.

“I’ll give you everything I know about Hydra,” she said suddenly, her voice rising in urgency. “Every secret, every location. Kill me if you must, but spare Pietro!”

Rowan’s eyes hardened. At her words, a cold spark glinted within them.

So it was Hydra.

Of course it was. The rats had finally crawled into his path. He had never cared enough to hunt them down, but if they had chosen to meddle with him, he would ensure they paid the price.

He already knew the name she carried on her tongue Strucker.

“You think I don’t already know?” Rowan’s voice was a quiet snarl. “Strucker sent you. Hydra’s coward of a baron.”

Wanda froze, her lips parting in shock. He knew? He already knew?

Then why had Strucker sent them into this trap? Her heart twisted with rage. She clenched her teeth so hard it hurt, cursing Strucker’s name silently. His arrogance had condemned them both.

Her body sagged again. Her eyes closed as the last threads of hope began to slip from her grasp. Perhaps this was always how it would end. Perhaps she and Pietro had been doomed from the moment that shell tore through their home years ago.

But a thought struck her, faint and sharp as lightning.

No. If Rowan had truly wanted her dead, he could have killed her already. He could have ended her life in the underground fight with a single blow. Why bind her here? Why wait?

Not for Hydra’s secrets. Not for power. Then why?

Her eyes shot open, a glimmer of desperate hope flickering there.

Rowan watched her closely, his lips curving in a wry smile as he saw the flicker of life return to her gaze. She was quick, this one. Her mind raced even in chains, her emotions swinging like a pendulum between despair and possibility.

She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat. If not power, not secrets, then perhaps the only thing she had left to offer was… herself.

Her face burned crimson. Memories of Hydra’s base surged up men’s eyes crawling across her body like filth, restrained only by fear of her powers. She had despised those looks, but she had known, deep down, what they meant.

Her body was valuable.

If it could save Pietro, if it could keep him alive… perhaps it was worth the cost.

Through the haze of tears, she studied Rowan again his sharp features, his strong frame. For all his cruelty, he was not Hydra’s kind of monster. He was different. Dangerous, yes, but not vile. If she had to give herself, better it be to him than anyone else.

Her lips trembled as she forced the words out.

“You… let Pietro live. I’ll give myself to you. Please.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet deliberate. Her eyes shimmered with humiliation and resolve alike.

Rowan blinked, momentarily startled. He had been ready to use Pietro as leverage, to force Wanda into obedience step by step. Instead, she had cornered herself, offering the one bargaining chip she thought she had left.

His brow arched, a strange mix of amusement and surprise crossing his face.

This girl… had just surrendered herself without him asking.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep