My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173 Unspoken Bargain

Chapter 173 Unspoken Bargain

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If someone has marked Vincent for death, idleness will not spare him; he remains a splinter beneath their skin. So in this life, when trouble appears, I will meet it head–on; a crisis might yet turn to favor.

By now, Vincent should already have reached the Zonfrillo Estate.

Fiona was still contemplating what to do when Soren’s gaze lifted and pinned her in place.

“How is your wound, Lord Soren?” she asked.

Setting the book aside, Soren rose. Pain tightened his brow; one hand pressed against his chest. Fiona stepped forward quickly, steadying him before he could sway.

“Is the pain troubling you?”

“Tell me, Ms. Fiona–do you worry over me only because your brother hurt me?” Soren shot her a look.

“My brother was wrong to strike you, yet there are reasons hidden beneath that moment.” Fiona lowered her gaze.

“Then enlighten me–what reasons could possibly excuse him?”

Fiona’s lips sealed. Silence was her answer.

“Believe this much–your brother’s predicament was never a snare of my making.” Soren, knowing what she was thinking, sneered.

Indeed, it had not been his scheme, yet his choice to leave the blow unanswered had been intentional.

With restraint, he meant to draw her nearer.

A chill slipped through Fiona; she had thought his pursuit cooled, yet here it smoldered anew.

From his lofty station, desires were things others hurried to supply; indulgence had become his habit.

Her refusals had not dulled but honed his interest–people covet what they are denied.

His wanting her was not the true danger. The peril lay in the day his patience ran dry; he had vowed to wait until she came, and here she was. One visit would breed another, wordless pressure tightening like silk.

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13:58 Sat, Oct 18

Chapter 173 Unspoken Bargain

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She tried to pull free, but his fingers locked over hers. His thumb traced slow circles on her skin–tender, almost affectionate, yet leaving her with a fissure of uncase.

Soren tipped his head, a cool smile ghosting across his lips. “At first,” he said, voice silk over steel, “I assumed you had already confided everything about us to your brother.”

Fiona steadied her breath, fingers curling over the polished edge of the zither. “If you allowed Vincent to strike, it was never only for that,” she answered, her tone calm yet edged with caution.

There had been nothing accidental about Soren’s maneuver.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come to Clearsky Pavilion.

Back on Pearl Terrace, disguised as Sterling, he had caught himself missing her with a sudden, startling ache.

The feeling had unsettled him, yet once calm returned, he refused to deny it; longing was longing–better faced than buried.

If he was capable of missing her, he would trace the impulse to its root and learn whether it was genuine affection or mere possessiveness burning in his chest.

Fiona’s lashes lifted. “What do you intend to do to Vincent?”

Soren ignored the question. Instead, he pressed two fingers to the strings beside her. “My wounds have robbed me of sleep these past nights. Play for me, Fiona. Something gentle- perhaps the piece called Twin Wings.”

He was withholding any promise about Vincent, using the young man as the silent coin of their negotiation, and both of them knew it.

“I am hardly adept at that melody,” she replied, the words tasting of opposition. Twin Wings, after all, belonged to lovers.

“Your skill is more than sufficient,” Soren murmured. “One lesson from me, and your hands will know the flight of it.”

Because Vincent’s safety dangled in the balance, she could not refuse him.

When Soren guided her fingers, he showed the same unguarded focus with which he had once taught her mounted archery–patient, exact, treating her like an uncut jewel worthy of careful shaping.

That deliberate tenderness had been the snare that drew her ever deeper in their previous life.

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13:58 Sat, Oct 18

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