?<strong>Chapter 357:</strong>
Mr. Norris’s mood had fluctuated dramatically in such a brief span, all seemingly influenced by Mrs. Norris without his conscious awareness.
About twenty minutester, the car entered the underground parking lot of the shopping district. It was still too early for dinner, so there were plenty of empty parking spaces. Carrie was the first to open the door, but before she could even straighten up, she noticed a figure darting toward her from the edge of her vision. The man’s voice rang out with venom. “You disgusting woman, you deserve to die!”
As he drew closer, Carrie recognized him—Nate. He no longer resembled the polished gentleman he used to be. His clothes were ragged, his face drawn and tired, and he seemed more like a disheveled, middle-aged man with nowhere to go. He pulled out a long, sharp knife, its de glinting coldly in the dim light.
Before Oliver could even move, Kristopher was already on his feet, swiftly spinning around to ce himself between Carrie and the threat, shielding her. The knife shed across Kristopher’s arm, ripping through his suit sleeve. Blood gushed out, soaking the fabric in bright red.
“You both deserve to die,” Nate growled, his face contorting with rage as he swung the knife again. Kristopher wasn’t about to let him have another chance. With one sharp movement, he kicked Nate to the ground. Natended a meter away, the knife slipping from his grip. He scrambled, desperately trying to reach for it.
Oliver, nowpletely focused, kicked the knife farther away, then dropped to his knees on Nate’s back, pinning his arms behind him.
“I’ll get an ambnce,” Carrie muttered urgently, pulling off Kristopher’s jacket. The sight that met her eyes froze her—his wound was deep, nearly exposing the bone. Her mind went nk for a second, but she forced herself to stay focused. This wasn’t the time for panic.
Calmly, she wrapped a spare tie around his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands were stained with Kristopher’s blood, the warm, sticky feeling sending a wave of dread through her. Her delicate face went pale, the sight of so much blood bringing back memories of the fire and the lives lost to blood loss.
Shaking off the memories, she pulled the tie tighter, praying it would slow the bleeding, at least for now. Fear gripped her heart as she imagined something happening to Kristopher. Horrible images shed in her mind, but she shoved them away, whispering to herself, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
It was hard to tell if she was trying to calm him down or herself.
“I’m okay, it’s just a small wound. Really, it’s nothing,” Kristopher said, offering her a reassuring pat with his other hand. “Make sure to call the police first.”
Carrie quickly dialed the police, her hands shaking. Once she hung up, she felt slightly calmer. Realizing the hospital would take too long, she decided to call their family doctor instead. When everything was in order, she finally turned toward Nate.
Oliver had him pinned to the ground. His face was caked in dirt, his eyes bloodshot with dark, sunken sockets, and a stubbled chin. It was obvious from his appearance that he’d been living in a terrible state.
As Carrie stepped closer, he tried to shift his face, lifting his eyelids to meet her gaze. “You wretch,” he spat bitterly. “This is all your fault.”
“Watch your mouth!” Oliver growled, releasing one hand tond a few punches, then turning to Carrie. “Mrs. Norris, stay back. Don’t let him get to you.”
Carrie wasn’t overly concerned. Oliver was well-trained, having undergone special training with Kristopher.
.
.
.