It was a chilly evening in early November. Due to severe wartime shortages of fabric, Sophie was dressed in paper-thin clothing that did nothing to keep out the biting cold.
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As she kept her head down, shivering uncontrollably while staring at the ground, a sudden wave of warmth enveloped her body. Looking up, her heart skipped a beat—that handsome enemy face was right beside hers.
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If he hadn't leaned back slightly just in time, her lips would have brushed against his when she turned her head. She glanced sideways and realized the warmth came from a military greatcoat draped over her shoulders. Without her even realizing it, the man had taken off his own warm coat and placed it over her.
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(This is so gentle. Will he be this gentle when he takes advantage of me later?)
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She forced herself to stop that line of thought, reminding herself again that this man was an enemy who had taken her captive. All his gentleness was merely a facade.
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Yet, this enemy coat felt wonderfully comfortable and warm, radiating the lingering heat of his body and a distinctly masculine scent that she found herself drawn to. Without letting him notice, she breathed it in, deeply, more than once.
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Wrapped in this enemy greatcoat, Sophie felt a strange sense of safety.
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It made no sense. And yet it was real.
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The Colonel opened the car door to let her take the front passenger seat. He then walked around the front of the car, slid into the driver's seat, closed the door, and started the engine.
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From the moment they stepped out of the warehouse to the time they got into the car, neither of them had uttered a single word. Yet, the quiet atmosphere felt as though a silent dialogue had already passed between them.
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Neither of them noticed that a pair of eyes was watching them closely through a glass window inside the warehouse.
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(Why is the Colonel being so nice to a prey he'll only have fun with for a few hours? He'd rather freeze himself just to keep her warm. And come to think of it, it’s so strange. He used to decline our invitation, saying he'd rather die than join us on our hunts. But ever since he voluntarily asked to join six months ago, he's hardly missed a single trip. And every time, he always takes three to four women away with him—)
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WAAAH!
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The cry of the girl beside him snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his head. It was Major Fritz. Gone was every trace of his earlier smile, replaced by a dark and sinister expression. He glared at the sobbing girl and, without a second thought, slapped her hard across the face.
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"Cry again, and I'll beat you to death!"
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Forced to choke back her tears, the girl took a shaky breath and then glared in fury at the man who was about to violate her.
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Major Fritz met those furious eyes. Even though he knew she could never fight back, for just a moment, he flinched.
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