Chapter 332

The chill of his presence was an oddly comforting shroud as Brielle leaned against his back. Exhausted to her core, the sting of tears threatened to betray her when Max hoisted her up effortlessly.

Taking a few steps forward, Max’s broad shoulders offered a smooth ride, while his bodyguard, trailing behind, dared not linger his gaze and hastened Into the forest to look for Kenzo.

Brielle’s fingers clutched at the fabric of Max’s suit, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rested her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Ten minutes ago, she thought she was a goner.

“Brielle, you’re not crying, are you?” Max’s voice was even, his stride unshaken.

Brielle, who had felt a twinge at the tip of her nose, stifled it, “How could I be?”

A soft chuckle escaped Max as he glanced into the distance.

Brielle, fighting back her emotions, quickly changed the subject. “Patrick took me to that old warehouse where we planned to trap Spencer. We were ambushed then, too. It’s got to be the same group–they’re well–trained.” Her voice was calm and analytical.

“Right.”

As Max carried on, a loud boom echoed from afar, and a fiery blaze erupted in the woods. A car had exploded, igniting a wildfire. Thankfully, it wasn’t summer; otherwise, the blaze would have been hell to control.

A shiver ran down Brielle’s spine as she clutched tighter at the fabric on Max’s arm. Her palms were sweating with anxiety.

“Don’t be scared.”

Max’s soothing voice comforted her as he attempted to call Patrick, only to find no signal on his phone.

The reception in the woods was hit or miss, and sometimes it was non–existent.

“We’re better off by the clearing.” Max noted.

“Mr. Dorsey. I hid Kenzo in a different spot. The fire shouldn’t reach there, but I’m not sure if those guys found him.”

“Just direct me, and I’ll take you there.”

Brielle felt a surge of relief and nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. The cool forest breeze brushed the faces of the unlikely pair.

Max followed the path upward, noticing sporadic drops of blood–Brielle’s–and felt a pang of distress.

Brielle’s voice sounded weary with fatigue as she whispered near his ear, “About 500 meters more.”

Max nodded and was ready to press on, then he heard her delirious murmur. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Was she delirious?

Max pursed his lips, recalling the car he’d noticed earlier but hadn’t identified as Brielle’s until Patrick’s call. He was going abroad, and it would be days before he returned. He felt the need to speak with her, face to face. But on his way, he saw the smoke rising from the woods.

Brielle’s car had crashed. The realization sent shivers down his spine.

When he found her sprawled by the river, his heart skipped a beat. At that moment, nothing else mattered–just that Brielle was alive. “Just stay alive,” he silently pleaded.

Max’s grip tightened as he softly called, “Brielle?”

She felt like slipping into sleep, eyelids warring against each other. At the sound of his voice, her head stirred, and her lips brushed against the skin of his neck. Max tensed, his voice a shade huskier. “Don’t move around. Just guide me.”

Brielle lifted her head. “Turn right, straight ahead. I covered our tracks with some branches.”

Overcome by exhaustion, she nestled onto his back and drifted off.

“Brielle?” Max called again, receiving no response. He gently settled her onto a protruding rock. He tapped her face lightly.

Brielle’s eyes fluttered open to see the surroundings shrouded in fog; the visibility had reduced to mere meters. “Is that fog?”

Max nodded, checking her forehead. She wasn’t feverish, just drained.

“Yeah, it’s thick. The fire’s died down. Our guys should have found Kenzo by now.”

But without cell service, they were cut off.

Winter fog was common in these well–preserved woods, and the mist was thick and persistent. It felt like when it rained, it poured.

Max tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his tone gentle. “Once we’re out of here, there’s something I need to tell you.”