?Chapter 1436:


    Chris’s small hand fumbled for his mother’s sleeve in the dream.


    “Chris, there’s no time for this!” Nic’s voice cracked like a whip, then instantly softened into something thick with grief. “Leaving you is thest thing I want. I wish I could be there for you — always.” Tears threatened, but she held them back. “But if they capture us both, no one will be left to seek justice for your father. One of us must survive. And you, Chris, are the future of the Cooper family. You must live.”


    With a savage wrench of the steering wheel, she swerved the shuddering car past a looming semi-truck. She turned her gaze back to him, and in her eyes he saw a storm — love, pain, steel resolve, and the dark promise of retribution, all surging together.


    “Endure whateveres,” she whispered fiercely. “Survive at any cost. And never, ever forget who did this to us.” Her voice turned to frost, every syble weighted with a grief too vast for tears. “Kolton Cooper. He murdered your father. He destroyed our family. Remember his name.”


    Young Chris trembled before the ferocity in her gaze, but his head bobbed in a frantic nod, tears spilling over. “I won’t forget, Mom. Kolton Cooper.”


    Suddenly, muffled cracks split the air. Gunfire.


    Almost immediately, destruction followed. The rear window exploded inward, sending a cascade of ss shards raining through the car. A bullet tore through the seat back with a dull, sickening thud — it struck Nic’s right shoulder. Blood soaked quickly through her white shirt, yet she didn’t cry out or flinch. Pain seemed irrelevant. Her focus remained solely on Chris.


    “I love you, Chris.” Her final words carried warmth — a fragile beacon in the chaos.


    She gritted her teeth and steered with one hand, pressing the elerator to the floor with the other. The engine screamed in protest. She had to speed up, dodge the gunfire from the assassins behind them, and carve out even the smallest chance of survival for her son.


    The car surged off the main road like a wild animal, tearing into the rough terrain at the roadside. The tires shrieked over the uneven ground, leaving two jagged, ckened trails — theirst act of defiance.


    In the turmoil, Nic’s shoulder wound tore open. Thick, warm blood streamed down her arm, each droplet falling in a relentless rhythm. Some sshed onto Chris’s face, coating his vision in crimson. The world blurred into red — the color of blood, the stain of revenge.


    Then, with a deafening impact, the car collided violently.


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    Everything spun out of control. The airbags deployed with a thunderous pop, lifting Chris from his seat as fear surged through him. But a strong hand seized him — Nic, shielding him with her own body through the crash. The door twisted and buckled. Ignoring the pain radiating from her wounds, she kicked it open, clutched Chris to her chest, and stumbled free.


    “Go! Run, Chris!” Her breaths came in ragged bursts, each step leaving drops of blood behind.


    She carried him through narrow, filthy alleys, finally ducking into a dark corner. Arge green dumpster reeked of rot, but it was the only refuge they had.


    “Chris, stay here.” She ced him inside and cupped his face with icy, blood-stained fingers. “Staypletely silent. Whatever happens, don’t move. I’ll lure them away ande back for you.” Her hand ruffled his hair gently, her eyes burning with protective love. “If… if I don’t return by sunset…” Her voice faltered. “Leave. Find a safe ce to hide. Pretend you know nothing. Forget your past. Don’t show anger toward Kolton. Wait — like a coiled snake — until the right momentes.”


    With that, she released him.


    The lid mmed shut, cutting off thest thread of light.


    Chris was plunged into pitch-ck darkness. The stench was overpowering, yet he dared not move or breathe too deeply. He curled into himself, knees pulled tight to his chest, trembling with fear. Outside, footsteps faded, followed by the distant crack of gunfire.


    He was terrified beyond words.


    Then, slowly, the trembling ceased. His gaze sharpened. His body no longer felt like that of a helpless child — something calmer, steadier had taken hold.


    “I…” Chris lifted his head, peering into the familiar darkness. “This is a dream.”


    He understood it wasn’t reality — it was memory, a rey of past horrors. His small hands, still smeared with his mother’s dried blood, rested before him. Every detail, every sensation, returned with vivid rity.


    A faint, bitter smile curved his lips — nostalgic, yet tinged with sorrow.


    “Next,” he whispered, his breath thin as mist, “a girl wille. She’ll draw the operatives away. She’ll… save me.”


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