Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 13: Horseback Hostage

[Leif’s POV — One Week Later]

The sky was clear today. No snow. No blizzards. A perfect day to stroll around, slip on ice, and possibly break my spine in front of an audience. Maybe even build a snowman.

So, was I ready to walk out there and "enjoy nature"?

Absolutely. Undoubtedly. Without question.

NO.

Instead, I was lying on my bed like a pancake gone rogue—limbs spread, dignity gone, with one of my crimson babies snoozing happily on my stomach.

Then the door creaked open, and in marched Nick, ever the morning sunshine. "My lord, breakfast is ready."

I bolted upright, eyes wild. "Where’s my beer?"

Nick, long-suffering as ever, placed a teapot on the table. "It’s morning, my lord. And you cannot keep drinking beer every day."

I froze. Stared. Betrayal cut deep. "...You bring tea? Do you want to wither and die like so delicate houseplant?"

Unfazed, he poured a cup and pushed a plate toward . Pancakes.

I stuffed one in my mouth like an angry squirrel. "...Fine. I can adjust."

Nick smiled faintly, probably thinking he’d won. He hadn’t.

"The sky is clear, my lord," he added carefully. "Why don’t you go out and walk around the estate? Fresh air might—"

"NO!" I slamd my fork down, pancake half-chewed.

Am I insane?! Why should I go out and walk straight into the jaws of my doom?! Fresh air?! That’s just code for running into him.

Nick sighed, already exhausted by my drama. "My lord... isolating yourself like this can harm your ntal health."

I crunched on my pancake like it was a tactical weapon. "Nick, I survived quarantine."

His brows shot up. "Quar—what?"

"Quarantine," I repeated, waving my fork like a sage imparting forbidden knowledge. "Locked inside four walls for months. Zero human contact. Just , snacks, and a crippling internet addiction. Compared to that, this is NOTHING. This is child’s play. I can do this forever. Isolation? Please. I’m built for it."

Nick blinked. "...Internet?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t question it. Ancient wisdom. Beyond your comprehension."

He pressed his lips together, no doubt debating whether his master had finally gone insane.

Spoiler alert: yes. Yes, I had.

Because going outside ant seeing him. And seeing him ant rembering... that kiss. Nope. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not until the sun explodes and humanity perishes.

That was my plan, at least, until—

KNOCK. KNOCK.

I froze mid-bite. The universe turned silent. Then the door creaked open, and in stepped—

ALVAR.

My eyes widened. My mouth froze. My fork slipped dramatically from my hand and hit the plate with a CLANK so loud it might as well have been a funeral bell. I gulped so hard I choked on my own spit.

He stared at , expression carved from ice. "Until when are you planning to hide in your chamber, Leif?"

I imdiately latched onto Nick’s sleeve like a drowning man grabbing driftwood. "Call the Archmage."

Nick blinked. "Eh?"

"Tell him it’s an ergency! I need a spell. The mory-erasing kind."

Nick’s brows furrowed. "My lord, there is no such—"

"I DON’T CARE! TELL HIM TO INVENT ONE!"

Alvar exhaled slowly, like he was already exhausted just existing near . "There’s no such spell, Leif. Now, stop wasting ti. We have work to do."

My brain—loading... loading...DING!

Excuse plan unlocked: SICKNESS.

I clutched my throat dramatically and let out the fakest cough in the kingdom. "I—I have... a lot of colds! All of them! Maybe even a plague!"

Alvar’s stare: Arctic, unamused. "No. You don’t."

Damn it. Ti for Plan B.

I clutched my stomach, groaning like an opera singer. "Ughhh, my stomach! It’s—it’s twisted! Knives! Daggers! An entire orchestra of pain—"

"Enough."

Before I could cook up Plan C (sudden-onset blindness, perhaps?), he strode forward with terrifying speed. In one swift motion, he grabbed and slung over his shoulder like it was nothing.

"W-WHAT THE—?!?!" My brain glitched so hard I forgot human language.

He adjusted his grip effortlessly and started walking out of the chamber, ignoring my shrieks. "We don’t have ti for your excuses."

"EXCUSES?!? THIS IS CALLED SURVIVAL!" I flailed, kicking like a toddler mid-tantrum. "PUT DOWN! HOW CAN YOU TOUCH SO CARELESSLY?! I’M A DELICATE FLOWER—"

"Stay still," he said, voice low and warning. "Or the consequences will be no good."

But did I shut up?!

Absolutely NO!!

"AAAGHHHH... LET GO OF EE, YOU BASTARD!!!"

I wriggled like a possessed eel, flailing my arms in slow-motion kung fu that hit absolutely nothing except air. anwhile, His Royal Tower-of-Muscles just kept walking, expression carved from stone like he was carrying a sack of potatoes instead of a grown, fully dignified man with dignity (that I definitely still had, thank you very much).

"Leif," Alvar’s voice rumbled—deep, calm, and irritatingly sexy. "Stop squirming before you dislocate your own limbs."

"DISLOCATE YOUR FACE, YOU KIDNAPPER!" I howled, pounding weak fists against his back.

Spoiler: it felt like punching a brick wall covered in velvet. Stupid broad shoulders. Stupid back muscles. Stupid everything.

Nick was still standing in the doorway, eyes bulging like he’d just seen his lord abducted by an alien. "My lord, should I—"

"DON’T JUST STAND THERE, NICK! CALL THE POLICE! CALL THE CHURCH! CALL... call... the pizza delivery guy, I DON’T CARE, JUST HELP!"

Nick: "...what is a pizza Delivery? Do we have such a system?"

"Never mind! Betrayer! Traitor! I’ll haunt you when I die!"

Alvar ignored the chaos, as usual. He adjusted on his shoulder like I weighed less than his sword. His stride was steady, powerful, and arrogant. He even had the audacity to pat my thigh like I was cargo.

He carried out past the stunned servants, who were whispering behind their hands like they were watching the kingdom’s hottest drama unfold live.

"Look at the way the Grand Duke holds him..."

"Is this... romance?"

"Romance? Between two n? It more looks like a kidnapping."

"Do you think we should interdiate?"

"No...don’t forget he is a grand duke."

anwhile, ? Screaming, wailing, and kicking my legs like a toddler at nap ti. My crimson babies just followed ...like it’s nothing.

***

[Later—Continuation]

The cold wind slapped in the face the second Alvar dumped outside. I stumbled, blinked against the snow, and then—oh, glorious freedom! The door to my mansion was right there. I could sprint, barricade myself inside, and live happily ever after in isolation with pancakes and beer.

Yes. Brilliant plan. Foolproof.

I bolted for the door—

Only for a strong arm to yank back like I was on a leash. I collided against a chest. A very hard, broad chest.

"You are not allowed to run." His voice was low and absolute.

I wiggled furiously, like a fish caught in a net. "Says who? The Law of the Land? The Ancient Scriptures?!"

His hold didn’t budge. His breath fanned against the crown of my head. And then—his gaze dipped. To my lips. Just for a second.

And he gulped.

I froze, dumbfounded. Why... why the hell did Mr. Frosty just gulp?

My cheeks burned so hot. I was sure the snow beneath us started lting.

Don’t tell the kiss is haunting him too—

Before my brain could spiral into dangerous territories, Alvar sighed like a man tired of existing. "The greenhouse project is ready. Let’s go."

"Wha—ready? Already?" I blinked, utterly thrown.

He nodded, already striding toward his massive, terrifying black horse like so dark warlord out of a novel. "Yes."

He mounted with practiced grace, then extended a gloved hand down to . "Co."

I stared at it like it was a cursed object. "I can... go by carriage, thank you very much."

"The snow isn’t cleared, Leif," he replied coolly. "Now co. People are waiting."

People are waiting? Ugh. Responsibility. My greatest weakness.

I hesitated. My pride scread NO. But his hand lingered there, steady, unwavering, inevitable.

Finally, with all the reluctance of a man signing his own death warrant, I placed my hand in his.

He pulled up like I weighed nothing and—he didn’t put behind him. No. He pulled straight into the seat in front of him.

Which ant... I was practically caged in his arms. His chest at my back. His breath against my ear. His warmth seeping into like betrayal itself.

My brain short-circuited.

Abort mission. Abort mission. Too close. TOO CLOSE.

"Sit still," he murmured.

"Sit still? SIT STILL?!" My voice cracked, utterly betrayed by my own vocal cords. "I’m basically sitting on your soul, Alvar!"

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He just adjusted his grip on the reins, one arm brushing against my waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then the horse shifted, and instinctively, I leaned back for balance—straight into him.

And that’s when I felt it.The subtle tightening of his arm around my waist.The sharp inhale he tried to hide.

I froze, every nerve screaming at once. Wide-eyed. Breath caught.

...And then, low, close enough to burn against my ear, he whispered, "Don’t move too much."

My heart slamd in my chest. My brain short-circuited.

Yeah. I was dood.