?Chapter 2888:


    “Alright.”


    Once hey down, Hadley checked the IV and its drip rate. By her estimation, it wouldst another hour or two.


    She pulled a thin nket over herself on the opposite seat, lying on her side so she could see both him and the IV bottle at a nce.


    The vehicle moved with a steady rhythm. Eric’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing soon deep and even as sleep imed him.


    But Hadley remained restless.


    The quiet was filled only by the soft tick of the IV.


    After a while, she sat up and pulled back the curtain. Beyond the ss, rain streamed down once more.


    “Hmm…” A low groan from Eric broke her thoughts. He shifted, clearly ufortable.


    Hadley hurried to his side, noticing he had rolled against his wound. Carefully, she slid a pillow behind his back. At once, his tension eased, and he went still.


    She meant to return to her seat—yet her gaze lingered. His hospital gown cor had slipped open slightly, revealing the sharp lines of his corbones.


    Hadley’s brows knitted. Something was missing.


    Biting her lip, she hesitated, then reached out, her fingertips brushing the warm skin at his throat.


    Her heart stuttered.


    It was empty.


    The peach pit whistle—the one that had always hung there, the keepsake Cristian had said was recovered and returned to him—was gone. He wasn’t wearing it.


    Hadley’s gaze softened, lingering on his peaceful, sleeping face.


    Had he truly let their past go… just as he had recently told her?


    Following the address provided by the doctor, Ernest and Ellis arrived almost at the same time.


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    Their cars screeched to a halt, and the two men stepped out, exchanging a firm, measured nce.


    “Mr. Flynn,” Ellis greeted with a polite nod.


    “Chief Gomez.” Ernest’s eyes swept over the crumbling clinic before them. His brows knitted tightly together.


    “This is it?”


    “The address matches,” Ellis confirmed, watching Ernest’s expression darken.


    The worry on his face was in—children of privilege had never known such harshness. The thought of Locke and Joy here unsettled him deeply.


    “Let’s go in and ask,” Ellis suggested.


    “Alright.”


    Before they could move forward, the clinic door creaked open. The doctor stepped out, having just seen off another patient.


    At the sight of the imposing pair, he froze, momentarily caught off guard. Then, regaining hisposure, he stammered, “Are you… Mr. Flynn? And Mr. Scott?”


    “I’m Ernest Flynn.” Ernest stepped forward, his tone clipped.


    “The boy is my son. The girl, my niece.”


    “Oh! Yes, yes!” The doctor’s face flushed with excitement, disbelief, and a touch of nerves.


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