?Chapter 1050:


    rmed, Rhys stood and approached her quickly, his hand resting gently on her back.


    “He’ll pull through.


    Have faith.


    He’s stronger than this!”


    “He…” Harlee struggled to speak, her voice raw and broken.


    After a long pause, she managed to ask, “How did he end up shot? How bad is it?”


    “He stepped in for Ritchie, taking the bullets meant for him…” Rhys said.


    Harlee’s heart sank, and for a moment, words eluded her.


    From her own experience on the front lines, she knew that running from an outer position to shield someone in the center would mean being hit repeatedly.


    Five or six bullets at least. It was nothing short of miraculous that Bart was still alive. The fact that none of the shots had struck any vital organs was simply beyond astonishing.


    “I want Matteo and those traitors to suffer!” Harlee dered, each word deliberate and firm.


    “I’ll stand with you,” Rhys replied without hesitation.


    Harlee looked deeply into his eyes and then acted as if she hadn’t heard his words.


    “Leave. I need to rest.”


    Rhys appeared unsurprised, as though he’d expected her rejection. Turning to go, he tossed a sharp remark over his shoulder.


    “If you’re so determined not to sleep, I won’t hesitate to join you in bed.”


    Harlee didn’t respond. She tilted her head, watching as he strode off without a backward nce. Was that a threat—or something else? How quickly things had changed.


    At 3 a.m., Harlee’s eyes snapped open in the pitch-ck room.


    Her stomach churned violently. Throwing off her nket, she bolted for the bathroom, heaving over the sink.


    When there was nothing left in her stomach, she leaned against the counter, her breathing shallow and uneven. It took ages for her body to settle before she sank to the floor, drained. She thought she’d recovered from Rhys’ betrayal and was no longer depressed, but it seemed her wounds had only been buried, not healed.


    Seeing Ritchie’s amputated legs and hearing that Bart wasatose was unbearable. The anguish stole her sleep, and when she did doze, nightmares jolted her awake, leaving her dry-heaving again. The pain felt like drowning.


    An unrelenting tide dragged her under, cutting off air and leaving her gasping for relief. She reached for a shore she couldn’t see, her chest burning with the effort. It was excruciatingly painful.


    Harlee clutched at her heart, as though to stop it from breaking further.


    A quiet sound drew her attention, and a momentter, she was lifted effortlessly off the floor.


    Harlee didn’t resist.


    Her eyes empty, she rested in the arms of the man holding her.


    Rhys gazed at her in silence, his expression darkened by sorrow.


    Had this been how she fought back the depression caused by his ident, when most had assumed he was dead, during the past three years? A pang of guilt struck him.


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