?Chapter 1419:


    Vince’s words drifted into the air — light, almost casual — yet cold enough to freeze bone. The reflections in the shattered fragments around them stretched on endlessly.


    A swirl of ck mist formed in Vince’s arms, gathering rapidly until it solidified into Rosanna’s familiar, fragile figure. She clung to him.


    “But,” Vince’s smile widened, though his eyes stayed cial, “since you’re so devoted to me… I suppose I can show mercy and keep you as my secret lover.” Each wordnded like a toxin-tipped de.


    Maia stood amid the inferno and watched in silence. Her expression did not change, her eyes steady and unmoved. She had stopped caring. That small, pathetic chapter of her past — along with the cheap affection she had once held for Vince — had long since been reduced to ashes.


    Suddenly, the world copsed into darkness. Thick. Eerily silent.


    Then the mes surged up again, zing so bright they seared her vision.


    A bullet cut through the fiery air, shrieking toward her chest. In the heartbeat before impact, a tall figure threw himself in front of her, shielding her with his own body.


    Chris.


    The bullet tore into him brutally. Blood burst into the air and blurred her vision. He fell like a wounded eagle — like a severed kite — descending slowly, with heart-wrenching force. Yet his eyes stayed on her, filled with longing and resolve.


    A scream wed out of Maia’s throat as a crushing pain seized her chest. A deafening crack followed. The ground split apart, mes surging higher, coiling hungrily as they devoured Chrispletely. Only scorching red and suffocating heat remained.


    “Chris!”


    Maia jerked awake on the hospital bed, gasping, her heart pounding wildly. Cold sweat soaked her forehead, and tears still clung to hershes. She drew shaky breaths, her fingers digging into her palms to anchor herself in reality.


    The hospital room was silent except for her ragged breathing. Pale lights cast a cold, frosted glow over everything. Every fragment of the nightmare remained vividly etched in her mind — every image, every wound, every moment swallowed by fire pressing heavily on her chest.


    Why had she dreamed that? Perhaps it was the release after too much strain, or the old scars that had never truly healed, or simply her fear of losing him — the one who had risked everything for her.


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    How was Chris now?


    Maia flung off the nket and ripped the IV from her arm, ignoring the sharp sting and the blood that followed. She slipped into her shoes and pushed herself toward the door, unsteady but determined.


    The moment she stepped outside, a flood of noise crashed over her. Distant ambnce sirens wailed. Footsteps hammered the floors. Gurney wheels rattled. Frantic voices — medical staff, distressed families — merged into a tense, urgent chaos. The air carried the smell of disinfectant, sweat, and blood.


    “Make way! Move aside!”


    “Critical patients iing!”


    “ER 3, prepare immediately!”


    A team of masked staff rushed past with a gurney, a rush of wind trailing in their wake. Maia instinctively pulled on a mask and moved closer. Her gaze swept over the injured — then suddenly stopped.


    Her eyes locked onto one particr gurney.


    The face was pale, battered, barely recognizable beneath the dirt and wounds. But Maia knew it instantly.


    Rosanna.


    Her hair clung to the gashes on her face. Her clothes were torn and stained with mud and blood. Purple bruises bloomed across her skin, and a dark, swollen mark stretched from her forehead to her temple, covering nearly half her face.


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