?Chapter 679:


    Ten minutester, Wesley tore through the city streets, ignoring the screaming red lights with wild, reckless urgency. He was desperate to reach the hotel Elena had mentioned.


    Along the way, Felix, his ever-reliable assistant, managed to pinpoint Elena’s exact location. His voice was steady but urgent as he informed, “Mr. Spencer, Miss Harper is currently in room 1604.”


    Before the car even came to a halt, Wesley was already pushing the door open. He strode forward with fierce determination, his expression stone-cold, the air around him thick with an ominous chill. With each determined step, his sharp jawline was set, radiating a lethal intent that was chilling to witness.


    Reaching room 1604, Wesley didn’t wait for Felix to catch up. Instead, he delivered a forceful kick to the door.


    It burst open with a resonant crash that made Felix’s eyelid twitch involuntarily. There was no mistaking it — Wesley was engulfed in a raging fury. This raw, unbridled anger was reserved only for matters involving Elena, the only person who could provoke such a visceral response from him.


    Inside, without even ncing at Cecil, whose head was bleeding profusely, Wesley’s focus was solely on Elena. He moved swiftly to her side, lifting her gently yet urgently into his arms.


    “Lock that man up. And make sure he doesn’t die too easily,” Wesleymanded Felix, his voice dripping with cold fury.


    Felix caught on immediately — anyone foolish enough to mess with Wesley’s woman was practically begging for disaster.


    He wasted no time instructing someone to drag Cecil out of the room.


    The car waited just outside the hotel’s main entrance.


    Felix dashed ahead, opening the car door for Wesley with a respectful bow before sprinting back to take the driver’s seat.


    “To the hospital, Mr. Spencer?” Felix asked, his voice steady despite the urgency.


    Wesley was about to nod, his gesture almost automatic, when a subtle pressure against his chest made him pause. ncing down, he noticed Elena, her eyes barely open, shaking her head faintly.


    “Not the hospital,” she murmured weakly but with determination. Her knowledge of medicine was profound. The drug coursing through her veins was beyond any local doctor’s ability to counteract.


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    Realizing the futility of seeking conventional help, Wesley’s decision was resolute. “Take us to my nearest apartment,” hemanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Understood,” Felix responded.


    He smoothly raised the partition, sealing the back of the car into a secluded cocoon of privacy.


    By now, the drug had taken deep hold within Elena. Herplexion was unnaturally rosy, her breaths came in short, rapid bursts, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead and neck. Stray strands of hair clung to her flushed skin as her temperature rose, turning each exhtion into a whisper of heat.


    Elena sat slumped, her head bowed in a deceptively calm posture, yet her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths — clear signs of her simmering turmoil. Her hands, clenched into tight fists, betrayed her struggle as she bit down on her lip, the silence around her amplifying the storm within.


    Wesley’s brow furrowed with concern as he studied her closely. From the moment they slid into the car, he hadn’t loosened his protective embrace, and now, with Elena cradled in hisp, her head nestled against his chest, she seemed more fragile than ever.


    Wesley tenderly lifted her chin, revealing her breathtaking face, and delicately parted her lips with his fingers. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he whispered soothingly.


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