Chapter 308
308:
His frail voice trembled, the words escaping in a half-dreamed plea. His brow creased again, tension flickering across his face as he held her hand tightly.
“I’m not leaving, Dylan. I’ll stay right here with you,” Christina promised, her voice a gentle murmur meant to soothe.
Yet her reassurance went unheard. Instead, his grip only grew stronger, his knuckles paling as he clung to her hand.
A faint wince crossed Christina’s face, and she let out a soft gasp.
“Dylan, you’re hurting me.”
That quiet cry broke through where comfort had failed. Instantly, Dylan released her, his fingers loosening. But a heartbeat later, his hand reached for hers again—this time tentative and tender, as if afraid she might break.
Sitting in the chair, Christina gazed down at their intertwined hands, her thoughts lingering on that fragile, childlike panic in his touch. A faint smile tugged at her lips. For someone as guarded and distant as Dylan, this vulnerability was strangely sweet—and unexpectedly endearing.
She cradled Dylan’s hand in hers, her voice barely above a whisper as she let out a soft laugh.
“It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here until you wake up.”
Her gaze lingered on his face. Without the usual tension of consciousness, the sharp lines of his features had softened. He looked paler now, but that only made his handsomeness more striking—there was something otherworldly about him, even in sleep. The elegance of his figure and the refined angles of his face felt almost too perfect for reality.
Usually so cold and composed, Dylan now seemed utterly defenseless. The contrast stirred something in Christina’s chest.
“Relax, or you’ll end up with frown lines.”
Her slender fingertips moved with slow tenderness, coaxing the tightness from his brow while whispering soothing words.
L∆tєѕt chαptєrs ιn g𝒶lnovєl𝑠.𝑐ᴏm
Christina caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of Dylan’s lips, as if he were quietly amused. Had she not known better, she might have thought he was pretending to sleep.
Time trickled by in silence. Christina couldn’t bring herself to lie on the nearby bed. Instead, she stayed at his side, fingers still laced with his as she drifted off in the chair.
A sudden sound jolted Christina awake—the soft click of the door opening. Her heart skipped a beat. Who was coming in at this hour?
Christina’s mind raced. Maybe it was just a doctor making rounds, or a nurse checking in, but something about this felt different.
Her senses sharpened, her posture immediately shifting as years of training kicked in. The footsteps that approached weren’t those of a typical hospital staff member. They were too controlled, too quiet—more akin to the stealthy steps of a professional assassin than someone here for a routine check.
Blinking slowly as though waking from a nap, Christina let her gaze drift lazily toward the newcomer. A white coat and a surgical mask concealed his features, offering her no clue as to his identity.
Feigning drowsiness, she played along. “Doctor? Is it time for the IV already?”
The man’s response was neutral, “Yes.”
“Where’s the IV bag, then?” she asked, her voice tinged with just the right amount of confusion to make her act believable.
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