?Chapter 1592:


    She nced at Chris, pinned to the ground, conflicting emotions shing in her eyes. Then her gaze shifted to themotion nearby. Several soldiers were lifting Dominic into a sitting position, but his head lolled forward—he was still out cold—while medics frantically worked to bring him around.


    On one side, Chris remained restrained on the ground. On the other, her grandfathery unconscious.


    Her nails bit into her palms.


    She turned to the Major. “I’m going to General Watson.”


    She bent, picked up Chris’s fallen phone, and slipped it gently into his pocket. “Don’t hurt him,” she said quietly but firmly. “I’ll exin everything to General Watsonter. Chris has no part in Cooper Group’s business.”


    The Major met her eyes—aware of their marriage—and nodded solemnly. “You have my word.”


    Maia gave him onest look, then ran toward her grandfather.


    She understood the stakes perfectly. Only when Dominic was stable would the soldiers release Chris.


    Chaos engulfed the tunnel rescue site.


    “Move—stand back!” Maia forced her way past the soldiers and rushed to Dominic’s side.


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    The sight of her grandfather’s pallid, unconscious face crushed her chest, stealing her breath for a split second. Dominic might have been getting on in years, but he was tough as weathered leather—he had been personally leading the rescue operations. Maia couldn’t imagine what could have brought him down so abruptly.


    But her professional instincts took over, snapping her back into focus.


    She sank to one knee, unfazed by the gravel cutting into her skin, and pressed two fingers against his carotid artery. The pulse beneath her touch was rapid.


    “Lay him t,” she ordered sharply. “Loosen his cor and belt. Keep his airway open.”


    Her voice was cool and decisive. The soldiers obeyed at once.


    Maia lifted Dominic’s eyelids, checking his pupils, then bent down to listen to his breathing. There were no visible injuries, and hypoglycemia didn’t appear to be the cause.


    Realization struck. This was an acute cardio-cerebrovascr episode—triggered by extreme emotional agitation. In simpler terms, Dominic had quite literally been angered into copse. She couldn’t picture what could have provoked such fury in someone who had endured the horrors of war for decades.


    There was no time to specte. Maia’s eyes focused, and she began administering first aid using a technique she had once studied in an ancient medical text—striking along the carotid with the edge of her palm to drive the congested blood away from his brain. For a healthy person, the maneuver would cause dizziness. For Dominic, it was exactly what he needed.


    She executed the movements without hesitation, with precise and practiced efficiency.


    Secondster, a wet gasp escaped his throat. “Ugh…”


    His breathing began to steady. His eyes slowly flickered open.


    At first, his vision was hazy and he didn’t recognize the face above him. But as his eyes cleared and settled on Maia’s worried yet steady expression, his pupils sharpened instantly. A surge of emotion hit him. She had saved his life once again.


    But there was no room for gratitude right now.


    Memories came crashing back. Dominic shot his hand up and gripped her wrist with unexpected force.


    “M-Maia—”


    His fingers trembled, digging into her skin. “How… how could you…” he rasped, bloodshot eyes smoldering with restrained fury.


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