?Chapter 1385:


    He hadn’t changed clothes. The dried blood was clearly visible, spread across the shoulder of his shirt like a dark, jagged stain.


    Jewell sighed as he stepped into the room and dropped the kit on the table. “Why didn’t you take the shirt off? Once the blood dries, it bes harder to pull off.”


    William sat with a half-burned cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up into the dim study air. Jewell’s voice barely registered. He didn’t even nce his way.


    Setting the medical kit down, Jewell moved in and said, “I need to cut around the wound first. Might sting a little—brace yourself.”


    The blood had clotted, fusing fabric to skin. Ripping it off now would be like peeling raw flesh. So Jewell didn’t drag it out. He grabbed the surgical scissors and made a clean, decisive cut.


    Even someone like William, who could usually grit his way through anything, let out a sharp grunt.


    Jewell chuckled. “Huh. I thought nothing got to you.”


    Only then did William look up, finally meeting his eyes. Jewell’s smirk was unmistakable, light and teasing. William sighed, flicked ash into the tray, and took another slow drag.


    He wasn’t much of a smoker. Back when he’d just met Ste, he spent most days holed up in theb, far from anything remotely unhealthy. Didn’t even touch the stuff.


    But ever since that hellish trip to Arlo’s, the pounding headaches had be nightly visitors. Without nicotine, he could barely hold them off.


    Turned out people weren’t lying when they said smoking numbed the pain.


    While he was lost in that thought, Jewell plucked the cigarette from his hand. “Cut back,” he said, tossing it into the tray. “You used to hate this crap, remember?”


    Before William could answer, Jewell was already back to work, wiping the wound clean with an alcohol pad.


    g?lnσν????s???оm hosts thrilling adventures


    The pain from earlier had been so sharp, now the sting barely registered.


    Jewell focused on patching him up. “What happened? Who stabbed you?”


    William didn’t hide it. “She did.”


    Jewell blinked. That, he hadn’t expected. He hadn’t heard the full story yet, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’ve got a real talent,” he said dryly. “Takes some doing to push a gentle woman that far.”


    For reasons he couldn’t exin, William didn’t like the way that sounded. His jaw tightened as he shot Jewell a re. “Just finish and get out.”


    Jewell didn’t flinch at the coldness. He wrapped the bandage efficiently and stood up, brushing his hands off. “Keep it dry. Change the dressing often. If I’m not around, get someone to help—or figure it out yourself.”


    William opened his mouth to ask who he was supposed to rely on. But then he caught the look in Jewell’s eyes.


    Right. He meant Ste.


    He scoffed inwardly. She could barely stand the sight of him. The idea of her helping with his injury? A joke.


    Jewell packed up the kit but didn’t leave right away. Instead, he sat beside him again. “William,” he said, quieter now, “I don’t know what twisted you up like this, but I know hate can rot you from the inside. Don’t let it turn you into someone unrecognizable.”


    .


    .


    .