Love is War: But I'd bleed for you のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Kyla looked at her gun, feeling its familiar weight in her hand, then at Ronald. She could see the calculation in his eyes, the same tactical assessment she'd just completed. He'd reached the same conclusion. They were outgunned, outnumbered, trapped with no viable exit strategy. Any move they made would be suicide, and suicide helped no one… not them, not Jeffrey, not even Connor in his desperate grief.Slowly, carefully, broadcasting her intentions with every movement, Kyla lowered her weapon. Her fingers felt stiff, reluctant, but she forced them to cooperate."Smart choice," the guard said, his voice carrying a note of approval mixed with warning. "Now kick it over here. Nice and slow."Kyla did as she was told, the gun sliding across the blood-slicked floor with a sound that felt like defeat."You too," another guard said to Ronald, who had picked up one of the fallen guards' weapons during the chaos. The guard's aim never wavered from Ronald's center mass.Ronald hesitated, his

Kyla sat in her cell, her back against the cold concrete wall that seemed to leech all warmth from her body. She'd been there for what felt like hours, though without any way to track time, it was probably only thirty minutes. Maybe forty-five. Time had a way of stretching in situations like this, each minute feeling like ten.No one had come to question or torture her yet, which was strange. Usually, interrogations started quickly, while prisoners were still disoriented, still off-balance from capture. The fact that they were leaving her alone suggested either they were dealing with a crisis elsewhere, or they were planning something specific for her.Neither option was particularly comforting.She tested the door again, pushing against it with her shoulder, checking the hinges, looking for any give in the structure. Nothing. Locked tight, solid as a bank vault. No windows to break, no obvious weak points to exploit. The cell was designed to hold people exactly like her, trained oper

Connor pulled out a key card from his jacket pocket, holding it up so Kyla could see it clearly in the dim fluorescent light of the cell. The plastic card looked ordinary enough, black with a magnetic strip, but Kyla knew it represented freedom. A way out of this concrete tomb."This will get you out of the compound," Connor said, his voice low and careful. "Past the main gates, through all the security checkpoints. It's coded to my access level, so no one will stop you. No one will even question why you're leaving."Kyla took it, her fingers brushing against his for just a moment. She examined the card, turning it over in her hands. "And the stamp?"Connor glanced at the door, making sure it was still closed, that they were still alone. Then he moved closer, lowering his voice even though there was no one to overhear. "It's at the estate. In my room.""Where in your room?" Kyla pressed. She needed specifics, needed to know exactly where to look. She couldn't afford to waste time sear

St. Mary's Hospital admitted Jeffrey without too many questions, especially after the generous "donation" Jules arranged through one of his untraceable accounts. Ten thousand dollars could buy a lot of discretion, and the hospital administrator who processed Jeffrey's admission seemed to understand that some questions were better left unasked.They set Jeffrey up in a private room on the fourth floor, away from the main wards where curious nurses might gossip. The room was small but clean, with a window overlooking the parking lot. They hooked him up to monitors that beeped steadily, tracking his heart rate and oxygen levels. An IV drip fed fluids and electrolytes into his system, helping to flush out the remaining sedatives.Jules sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Jeffrey's bed, his long frame folded awkwardly into the too-small seat. He watched the kid sleep, watched his chest rise and fall with steady breaths. Jeffrey looked so young lying there, so vulnerable. His face

Ronald burst through the hospital's main entrance like a man possessed, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. The automatic doors barely had time to open before he was through them, his eyes wild and searching.The receptionist at the front desk looked up in alarm. "Sir, can I help you-""Room 412," Ronald said, his voice urgent and breathless. "I need to get to room 412.""Visiting hours ended at nine-""I don't care," Ronald cut her off. "Jeffrey is in room 412 and I need to see him. Now."Something in his expression must have convinced her not to argue. "Fourth floor. Elevators are to your left."Ronald started toward the elevators, then changed his mind and headed for the stairs instead. He couldn't wait for an elevator, couldn't stand still in a small metal box while it slowly carried him upward. He needed to move, needed to do something with the nervous energy coursing through him.He took the stairs two at a time, his legs burning by the third floor but he