Neoma's heart pounded with a mix of hatred and disgust as she watched Ohm clutch his bleeding hand. Every fiber of her being despised him—his arrogance, his control, his twisted sense of ownership. She could feel the venom in her words as she spat her defiance at him, refusing to let him break her spirit.
Ohm's men moved quickly to restrain her, their grip firm but cautious. Neoma glared at them, her fury unyielding. She was determined to fight until her last breath, no matter what he did to her.
"Take her to my room!" Ohm ordered, his voice cold and filled with rage. He pressed a cloth to his injured hand, blood soaking through the fabric as he tried to stem the bleeding. His expression twisted with pain and fury, a stark contrast to the charming facade he had worn moments before.
Neom
