The Guardians Strength
1331 Words
Does a pretty woman like you know how to make cookies?”
Several men crowded the door to Marcus’ house as they grinned lecherously at Cordelia.
There were plenty of others watching, but the thugs were infamous for being bullies around the area. No one was willing to risk themselves to help. They were just watching without getting involved.
If one had to be blamed, it was Cordelia for being so gorgeous and Marcus for carelessly leaving a beautiful woman like this at home. He was just giving others a chance to take advantage of the situation.
Cordelia’s heart thumped as her face paled, but she tried her best to remain calm.
“I hear that the new bride is a rich heiress?”
“No wonder! Rich heiresses never go into the kitchen. How’d she know how to bake cookies?!”
“Beautiful, you mustn’t know our local custom, huh?”
The thugs’ eyes were basically glued to Cordelia.
“Women who get married over here have to bake cookies to bring them to the neighbors! You got married a few days ago, and we haven’t gotten any cookies…”
“Excuse me, I didn’t know about this custom.” Cordelia did her best to make her voice sound less shaky. “I’ll bring the cookies over once I make them. My husband is coming back soon. Please—”
Cordelia was about to close the door when one of the men blocked it with his knee. The other two hooted and cheered. The moment Cordelia panicked and lost her grip, the men broke through the door and into the front of the house. Their gazes on her were greedy and lustful.
“It’s really surprising that the Grist fella has such good luck when it comes to women!”
The men were drooling.
Cordelia was repulsed from the bottom of her heart. She wrapped both arms in front of herself instinctively and looked at the men in alert.
“This is my house. Leave right now!” She raised her voice. “My husband’s coming home very soon! I’m sure you all know what he’s like!”
The men looked at one another before they cackled.
“Of course we do! He’s a coward who needs to use the toilet every time there’s a fight!”
“Beautiful, you have no idea, huh? Marcus is a real coward! Each time we fight, he’s the one sent to the police as a scapegoat!”
“We shouldn’t have missed your wedding! We didn’t get to ‘congratulate’ you then, but we can do it now…”
The men surrounded Cordelia, and some of them began to touch her.
Despite her fear and disgust, she immediately remembered the way Marcus punched the bag at the front of the house. She had never done it—she had only seen it, so who knew where she got the courage as she copied what Marcus did and used the thugs as her punching bag, swinging her fists at them.
The men were shocked, but Cordelia fighting back only further triggered their filthy thoughts.
“A feisty one, huh?”
Cordelia picked up one of the sticks at the front of the house, actually looking quite intimidating.
“Get out! Scram!”
“Beautiful, this is useless!” The men cackled. “You might hurt yourself with the stick if you aren’t careful. Let us teach you how to use it!”
Cordelia was close to tearing up. Fear, terror, helplessness… All these negative emotions pooled up in her, suffocating her.
The thugs became even more unrestrained. Two of them dragged the girl into the house…
Then, a loud bang came from the door!
Before they could react, their heads took two hard hits.
Cordelia stood rooted in shock as she watched the men who had been brazen moments ago cover their heads as they sprawled on the ground, groaning.
With his back against the light, Marcus looked icily on with a sharp gaze, looking authoritative and commanding even without saying a word.
Cordelia could no longer hold her tears back when she saw Marcus. She threw herself into his embrace, and the man stroked her hair gently.
It’s okay. I’m here.”
Marcus asked Cordelia to go inside and close the door.
The girl followed obediently, but the man did not go in after her. She heard a few dull thuds outside the house before the men’s agonized moans and cries were heard.
Cordelia looked out the window. Marcus had beaten those thugs down. They were bruised and swollen as they begged for mercy on their knees.
The ground in front of the house was all bloody now.
In spite of this, Marcus did not seem satisfied. He picked up the stick that Cordelia had used and hurled it down on one of the men’s legs.
“Try to harm my wife again and it won’t just be your leg that gets broken next time!” Marcus’ voice was a deep growl, and each word was oozing with threat.
The thugs ran off in terror, and Cordelia hid inside, trying to calm her thumping heart down even though her panting still gave it away.
Marcus entered at that moment. When she saw the dried blood on him, her lips moved but she said nothing.
“Were you frightened just now?” Marcus went over and put a large hand on her shoulder.
Cordelia shook her head, stretching her arms to hug him and snuggling her face against his chest unprompted.
This soft, dependent side of her hit a soft spot in Marcus.
“You’re tougher than I imagined.” He chuckled. “You actually chased them away with a stick when they tried to harm you.”
“What else could I do?” Cordelia looked up defiantly. “No one around offered to help, and you weren’t home. I could only encourage myself…”
“Mm, it’s all my fault. I should have been keeping you company at home,” Marcus said in a deep tone. “But I don’t think those guys will dare come again.”
Cordelia buried her face deeper in his chest and giggled lightly.
Her hand unintentionally glided past the man’s ripped chest, and his prominent muscles made her heartbeat quicken.
She had not expected him to actually be able to fight and finish the men off so quickly. Why did people call him a coward then?
“Wash up first and get changed,” Cordelia told him. “I’ll prepare dinner.”
Marcus nodded and watched her with a squint.
That took Cordelia aback, so she asked, “Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” the man replied with a smile. “I just think that… you’re not the way they described you.”
“What?”
“Before we got married, people said that the Jenner heiress was spoiled and had a huge temper—they said she didn’t know how to do a thing either. But you clean up the home very well and you are an amazing cook. You can calmly handle any issue you encounter as well…”
Marcus went closer to her with a vague smirk. “I’m questioning whether you’re actually Yelena Jenner.”
Cordelia blanched as she stared at him dumbly. The corners of her lips twitched as she plastered on a forced, awkward smile.
“I—of course I-I’m Yelena.” Her gaze was evasive as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Rumors, right? They’re always different from the truth. Don’t listen to their nonsense. I am the heiress of the Jenners. You didn’t marry the wrong person!”
This time, Marcus actually laughed genuinely. That was fine, he could wait—he could wait until the day she was willing to confess.
As Cordelia hurried back into the kitchen, somebody knocked on their door urgently.
“Marcus, you home?”
- Writer
