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Chapter 72
Chapter 72:
Before he could move, Silas moved like lightning.
He shoved a waiter aside and tore off his suit jacket, carefully draping it over June’s front to avoid the burns on her back. Then he turned and fixed the resort security guards with a hard stare. “Where are the medics? This is an intentional assault!” He didn’t wait for an answer. He bent down and, with extraordinary care, scooped June into his arms and lifted her from the chair.
“I’ve got you,” Silas whispered. “We’re going to the clinic right now p>
He carried her away, his long strides swallowing the distance.
Cole remained half-kneeling, his eyes locked on the spot where Silas disappeared into the darkness with June in his arms. His knuckles turned white. A suffocating mix of powerlessness and explosive rage burned through his chest, but he couldn’t stand up and follow her.
Dо𝘸n𝘭оa𝘥a𝗯l𝖾 𝖯𝗗𝗙ѕ 𝗈ո
He had lost the right.
Alycia reached out and touched his arm. “Cole p>
Cole wrenched his arm away from her with such force that she flinched. He turned and looked at her with eyes so full of murder that her crying stopped instantly.
But he didn’t stand. He didn’t follow.
He had lost the right.
The resort clinic smelled sharply of bleach and menthol.
June lay face down on a white examination table. The pain was a constant, screaming siren in her skull. The skin on her back and arm was a landscape of red burns and swollen blisters.
A nurse stood nearby with a tray of sterile tools. Using his medical authority, Silas took the long tweezers and cotton swabs from the tray, snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves, and scooped up a generous amount of cooling burn ointment.
With incredibly gentle, precise movements, he began spreading the thick cream across June’s damaged skin. Every time the cotton swab grazed a blister, her body flinched. She buried her face into the paper pillow to muffle her groans.
“Breathe, June,” Silas murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the room. “I know it hurts. Just a few more minutes p>
Five hundred meters away, the dark ocean rolled gently beneath Cole’s multi-million-dollar private yacht.
Cole stood alone on the top deck. The sea wind whipped his hair across his forehead. His face was a mask of pure, terrifying rage.
He raised a pair of heavy, marine-stabilized Zeiss binoculars to his eyes, lenses aimed directly at the brightly lit glass windows of the resort clinic on the shore.
Through the high-powered magnification, Cole saw everything.
He saw June lying on the table. He saw the terrible red burns across her pale skin. And he saw Silas — watched his gloved hands moving slowly across June’s bare back, saw him lean down to whisper near her ear, saw June’s body trembling beneath another man’s touch.
Cole’s breathing sounded like something wounded. The air scraped his throat raw.
