Chapter 717 Fever and Wolves
Chapter 717 Fever and Wolves
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Rage sharpened Yunice’s gaze. What truly stung was not the danger, but Wyatt’s smug certainty that she wouldn’t pull the trigger.
So sure of himself. So sure of her.
Her grip tightened, finger pressing harder against the trigger.
He thought she wouldn’t dare? Then let him see.
Her finger moved-
“Yunice!” Jordan’s startled cry echoed in the cavern.
Wyatt’s eyes darkened. In a flash, his hand struck hers aside just before she fired.
The gunshot cracked, the echo deafening in the stone walls. Pebbles showered from the ceiling.
The bullet embedded in the wall so close it had nearly grazed Wyatt’s ear.
He turned back, face taut with anger. “You really dared to shoot?”
Yunice dropped the gun to her side carelessly. “And here I thought you wouldn’t dodge.”
Wyatt gave a sharp laugh. “If I die chasing you, how am I supposed to keep chasing?”
“Exactly,” Yunice shot back, her eyes flicking deliberately to his wounded arm. “And I despise people who can’t even take care of themselves.”
The long gash tore wider with his sudden movements, blood soaking sleeve and dripping down his fingers.
Wyatt glanced at the red staining his hand, then back at Yunice’s impassive face.
Not even a flicker of softness for him?
But then why had she come at all, alone, into these mountains?
“Wyatt!” Jordan’s voice rang again.
Yunice looked up just in time to see Wyatt’s pallor blanch further. His body sagged, and before she could react he collapsed forward–straight into her.
She staggered under the sudden weight, his face cold against her cheek.
Frowning, she muttered, “Fever?”
She pinched his philtrum with one hand. No response.
Her eyes darted to Jordan. “Your master’s burning up, passed out. Wound’s infected. He’ll die if you don’t get him to a hospital‘
Jordan hesitated, eyes shining between Wyatt and Yunice. Then he said slyly, ‘Ma’am, you should take
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Chapter 717 Fever and Wolves
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him. I’ve got to haul these two down the mountain. Two hands, two captives. No way I can manage Wyatt
too.
Yunice started to let go. “Fine. Let him rot here then-”
Jordan only shrugged. “Let him die. What’s the loss? A man who couldn’t even keep his wife from running away–better dead anyway.”
“You-!” She clenched her teeth. But as Wyatt began to slide toward the ground, she couldn’t let him fall. With a curse, she caught him again, awkwardly hauling him upright.
Jordan smirked. “Good. I’ll see you at the bottom. Careful on the trail.” With that, he dragged Paul and Nora away, leaving her alone.
Yunice glared at the cave mouth. Then down at the dead weight in her arms. “…What the hell do you eat, so heavy…”
With difficulty she heaved his arm across her shoulder, staggering step by step down the mountain.
All the while muttering under her breath: “If this weren’t downhill, I’d leave you here for the wolves. Wolves love liars best–would’ve eaten you whole by now.”
She huffed, half–dragging him along. “Actually, why not leave you here? Jordan will come sniffing back sooner or later.”
Her eyes swept the path until she found a thick tree. Changing course, she set him down against the trunk.
Brushing her hands together, she exhaled. “This is private land, no wolves, no wild animals. Sit tight. Jordan will come for you.”
She turned to leave–then froze, eyes catching the blood still seeping from his arm.
With a sigh, she dug into her bag and pulled out a small vial of her own compound. Kneeling, she tore open his sleeve, sprinkling the powder across the gash.
The bleeding slowed almost instantly. At least he wouldn’t die here.
Capping the vial, she had just slipped it away when a sudden tug in her belly made her pause. Her brow furrowed, hand pressing lightly against her lower abdomen.
“Your period?”
The voice startled her. She looked up.
Wyatt hadn’t moved, still propped Jimply against the tree, head tilted back. But his eyes were half–open, glassy with fever, fixed directly on her.
It’s not your usual date,” he murmured faintly. “Your cycle’s irregular?”
Yunice snapped, “You’re the one with a hormone imbalance.”
Wyatt said nothing. Slowly, he lifted his hand.
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