Chapter 27 begins with an explosive moment, where the protagonist, filled with a fiery mix of rage and frustration, finds herself pinned atop Rhys in the freezing snow. The contrast between the biting cold of the snow and the hot, searing tension between them adds layers of complexity to the situation. Her anger boils over, demanding that Rhys never again use her as a mere pawn in his grand plans. This isn’t just about a momentary disagreement—it’s about a fundamental breach of trust and an assertion of self-worth. Her hands, now with claws like talons, dig into his chest as she pushes against him, almost as though she is trying to push away the emotional turmoil that she has kept inside for far too long. This confrontation becomes more than a heated argument; it symbolizes her determination to stand up for herself, to stop being manipulated, and to regain control of her life. The force with which she addresses him shows just how deep the wound of betrayal goes, and how serious she is about no longer being used as a mere weapon in his schemes.

Despite her words, Rhys responds with an unbothered laugh, something that only fuels her anger further. In that moment, the protagonist’s emotions are swirling in every direction—hurt, frustration, and a rising sense of betrayal. She is acutely aware of Rhys’s overwhelming physical presence; the warmth of his body contrasts sharply with the frigid snow beneath them. The proximity to him stirs an unfamiliar combination of sensations in her, creating an emotional conflict. Her body and mind are on edge, and she’s torn between wanting to break free of his grip and feeling overwhelmed by the bond they share. Rhys’s initial laughter fades into a more serious recognition of her words, as if he understands the weight of her anger. His response—“Fair enough”—is calm, but it carries the undertone of an unspoken understanding. While he doesn’t apologize, it’s clear that he acknowledges the depth of her feelings and the gravity of the moment. This marks a turning point in their relationship—one where both parties are confronted with their emotions and the weight of what has transpired.

The protagonist steps away from Rhys, a physical retreat that mirrors her emotional distance from him. As she moves away, her talons disappear, and she begins to regain some semblance of control over herself, though the storm of emotions still rages inside her. Rhys, in a calm but commanding voice, asks her to demonstrate the ability she had shown earlier, urging her to continue the training they had started. But the protagonist, drained both physically and emotionally, refuses. She has no desire to go further, to keep playing into his hands when it’s clear that she needs a moment to breathe, to process the intensity of everything that has happened. She desires nothing more than to retreat to the chateau, to find some semblance of peace after such a chaotic and emotionally charged confrontation. Rhys, sensing the shift in her, apologizes, though his words don’t seem to penetrate her hardened resolve. She wonders how often Rhys says these words—whether he truly means them, or if they are just part of his complicated persona. His apology, though well-intentioned, doesn’t hold much weight in her heart. She watches him stand up, brushing the snow from his clothes, before offering her a hand to help her up. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid between them. As she looks at his outstretched hand, the protagonist knows that their journey isn’t over yet. Despite her desire to retreat, she can’t deny the bond that still ties her to Rhys, nor the realization that their journey is far from finished. Rhys’s words—“You forgot”—ring in her ears, a reminder that there’s more for her to learn, more for her to face, and that she cannot escape what lies ahead. Even though she feels overwhelmed, there is an undeniable sense of something greater on the horizon, something she cannot ignore.