img Awakening The Warlord: My Genius Wife  /  Chapter 7 | 7.00%
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Chapter 7

Word Count: 1093    |    Released on: 03/11/2026

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the deepest prison of his coma. He was far from fully awake-still trapped in a fragile, semi-comatose fo

't bind them too tightly," I said, forcing my aching body

ready calculating our next move. By locking us in this unheated room without food or Silverdew, Elea

an scrap of linen, I wal

completely sealed. Lifting the lower edge of the blanket, I moved to inspect his legs. Both of his thighs and k

ese legs would require microscopic nerve-and-vein reconnection and rare sacred herbs. Just as I pressed

Fated Mates remained sealed, leaving him only this crude, instinctual probe. My lips curved imperceptibly. Without ex

vided you behave yourself and listen to me once you finally open y

round my fingertips with a mix of wariness and disbelief before retreating into his ch

orner wrapped in a spare cloak while I pulled the stool up to the bedside to keep watch. Ice-cold drafts whistled

er his chest, my knuckles brushing his cold jawline. Just then, the

ween the timber planks. Two fortress guards stood talking in low voices under the green

he corpses," the guard chuckled darkly. "That Spiritless was

Silverdew vaults belong entirely to Steward Eleanor,

swallow the entire military treasury of the Thorn Verge. Slipping quietly back to the bed,

of cold-iron poison fought back from his marrow. His forehead burned like

, neck, and corded forearms. As my cool fingers slid down the b

rious agony, his body convulsing as th

ating waves. The physical cooling with damp cloths had barely m

sweat, infected exudate, and stagnant blood still clung heavily to the air. His combat breeches and inner tunic

nst his broken skin would invi

past my elbows and took my slen

ded calmly. "We need to strip him completely

. "S-strip him completely? Miss... but that's... he's a So

necrotic tissue fighting against time," I cut her off with flat clinical

a hurried forward, keeping her eyes glued to t

layers of linen and leather straight down. Peeling the blood-soaked fabric away piece by piece, the full, devas

hoked gasp, clamping bo

houlders and a powerful, tapered ribcage. His abdominal muscles formed hard, defined ridges descending toward lean hips, etched with faded silver marks of past campaigns. Yet beside

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