Winning Her Heart Back (Emelie Hoven )
Chapter 675 Angel

Chapter 675 Angel

The scent of William, a familiar fragrance reminiscent of fresh snow, filled Emelie's senses for the first time in many years. It triggered memories of intimate moments with him, and her expression darkened.

William lowered his head. "Your grappling skills have improved. I heard you learned what you know now from Wesley. Did he teach you in positions like this?"

They were so close that she could feel his breath on her neck when he spoke. She fought to hold her breath.

Even after three years apart, she knew him well enough to sense his displeasure. But why was he angry? She didn't know, and she didn't want to know either.

She hated the feeling of being controlled the most, as it reminded her of her helplessness during Ronan's tragic death.

Her usually clear eyes were clouded with bloodlust. She raised her head and locked eyes with William.

"Let go!" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

Instead of releasing her, William tightened his grip.

"Angel," he said, his voice deepening.

The single word sent a shockwave through Emelie, freezing her in place. At the same time, she seethed. William pinched her chin.

"Angel, I allow you to do as you please only because you belong to me," he declared in a low voice. "Who gave you permission to be with Wesley?"

It was only then that Emelie knew why he was angry. A mocking smile curled on Emelie's lips.

"I should have known why you're doing this to me, Mr. Middleton. It seems like you're jealous," she retorted. He was just too possessive.

She freed her chin from his grasp and scanned the surroundings. "I remember this field. You once told me that in this life, I would either die alone or get back together with you."

"That hasn't changed," William replied.

She belonged to him, regardless of the fact that he caused her parents' death, that he was the Pierce family's enemy, and that he shot her with a crossbow. She could only be his despite having survived.

A surge of anger ignited within Emelie.

"Then prove you still have what it takes!" she challenged, and with a swift movement, she pushed William away.

Before William could stop her, she raised her hand and aimed something at him. It was a crossbow instead of a dagger.

William's eyes narrowed.

"A pocket crossbow," Emelie said while aiming the crossbow at him.

It was just like that year on the vast field. The only difference was that they had switched positions. Now, she was the one wielding the crossbow.

"I had an artisan design it for me. I have larger ones, but unfortunately, I didn't bring them with me today. This will have to suffice. Don't worry, my aim is better than yours. I won't miss. The arrow will pierce

right through your heart," she said.

There seemed to be a storm forming in William's eyes. However, for some reason, he chuckled.

Her aim was better? He doubted it.

Jodie arrived at this moment. "Ma'am!"

She saw William and immediately shielded Emelie behind her.

Emelie really wanted to pull the trigger. She wanted William to pay a hundredfold for what he did to her. She didn't see any reason to not do it.

She narrowed her eyes, raised the crossbow, and pulled the trigger.

The arrow flew through the air, but William didn't move. It brushed past William's cheek and cut off a few strands of his hair. Then, it struck the tree trunk.

William felt a faint sting on his cheek and blood trickling down his face slowly.

Emelie lowered the crossbow. "That was a warning. If you touch me again, it won't just be a scratch the next time."

She glanced at the sky, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Time is running out for you to claim the ring, Mr. Middleton. How unfortunate, but you lost."

With that, Emelie turned and walked away. Jodie only followed after Emelie after making sure that William was far enough to not be a threat to her.

William remained rooted to the spot for some time. Then, he shifted his gaze to the dagger that he had taken from Emelie.

He walked back to his horse, which was still tied to a tree, and stopped a few feet away. With a swift movement, he threw the dagger. The blade sunk perfectly into the tree trunk, severing the reins.

The horse approached him calmly, and William patted the horse's head, his expression had a mask of indifference. How could his aim be anything less than perfect?