Chapter 470 Footsteps
Daryl's footsteps gradually faded away, the soft sound of rubber soles against the tiled floor slowly disappearing in the quiet hallway. When that steady rhythm finally vanished, the smell of disinfectant suddenly became overwhelmingly pungent. It seemed to seep out from the cracks in the walls, mingling with the hospital's cold, damp air, stinging my nostrils and making my eyes water.
I reached out and pulled the blinds shut, the metal slats clinking together with a crisp sound. Holding my breath, I peered through the narrow gap between the slats. The twilight outside was like thick ink, turning everything into varying shades of gray and black. The distant trees were just blurry outlines, swaying gently in the wind, resembling lurking threats in the darkness. The images of gun barrels from the warehouse kept replaying uncontrollably in my mind.
In the dim light outside the window, those blurry outlines intertwined, and I couldn't tell if they were undercover cops, Lucas's spies, or Jeffrey's hitmen ready to pull the trigger. Every shadow made my nerves tighten.
I turned and walked to the bedside, gently touching Edward's forehead. My fingertips were immediately soaked by his clammy sweat.
"Don't be scared."
On the night of the warehouse explosion, Edward, covered in blood, had held me so tightly, the smoke and blood making it hard to breathe. Now, his hand began to twitch unconsciously again, the cold sweat in his palm reminding me of the warm liquid that had seeped from his neck when he shielded me.
The steady beeping of the monitor echoed in the room, while Edward's breathing was weak and irregular, each rise and fall making my heart race. Since that night, he hadn't had a peaceful sleep. Every night at 3 AM, nightmares would drag him into a pit of fear. Now, Edward clutched the edge of the blanket unconsciously, his brows furrowed in pain, the same expression he had when he was covered in blood, protecting me. The phone on the bedside table glowed with a faint blue light, standing out in the dim room.
The recording on the phone was our only hope, our last card to play. I stared at the phone, remembering how Edward had taught me to set up encryption software. Back then, he had lounged on the couch, a lazy smile on his face, saying it was an important safeguard against danger. But now, everything had changed. The burnt USB drive, the damaged original recording—what once seemed reliable evidence now felt incredibly fragile, ready to fail at any moment. Our situation had become increasingly dire and dangerous.
Just then, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor echoed from the end of the hallway, sharp and rhythmic, making my scalp tingle.
The monitor's beeping suddenly felt heavier.
The high heels grew closer, and I quickly shoved the phone under the pillow.
The gap between the storage cabinet and the wall was just wide enough for me to squeeze in sideways. The rough denim of my skirt clung tightly to my thighs, making a rustling sound with each movement. The metal buttons dug painfully into my lower back, and the hem of my skirt caught in the doorframe, rustling with every move. My back pressed against the cold wall, the wrinkled denim scratching my neck, each breath carrying a musty smell.
I counted my racing heartbeats, my knees almost hitting the storage cabinet. Cold sweat trickled down my spine, pooling at the base. Outside the door, the sound of fabric rustling suggested someone had crouched down. I held my breath, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears deafening.
The night outside was thick and impenetrable, like the fog trapping us. Edward's sleeping face looked even paler in the dim green light. I stared at his pale face, realizing all I could do was guard this flickering candle, counting his weak breaths in the darkness.
As the door handle began to turn, I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs. I braced myself against the cabinet door, slowly standing up. The denim fabric rustled against the cabinet, the sound clear in the silent room. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, each beat sharp and painful, the rush of blood roaring in my head.
The light seeping through the door crack cast a long shadow on the floor, the shadow swaying slightly, its outline indistinct, like an arm holding a bag or something hidden behind. The metal heel of a high heel clicked against the threshold, a cold, hard sound. I stared at the faint folds at the edge of the shadow, wondering who could be visiting at this hour.
The door handle turned further, the metal latch clicking open. I rushed to the bedside, my back against the cold metal rail, spreading my arms to shield Edward.
"Don't move."
I heard my own dry voice.
As the door fully opened, the smell of disinfectant mixed with an unfamiliar perfume hit me, the blurry figure in the hallway light becoming clearer. It was a woman wearing sunglasses, her dark red dress sweeping the floor, the metal chain of her black patent leather handbag glinting coldly.
The light switch clicked, and the fluorescent light blazed on.
Instinctively, I raised my hand to shield my face, my nails scraping painfully against my brow bone. The dull thud of my back hitting the storage cabinet hadn't faded when I heard the rustle of leather.
"What are you hiding from?"
Fiona's laugh was like marbles hitting tiles, her high heel tracing a half-circle on the floor.
She leaned against the doorframe, her dark red dress swaying with her movements, the chain of her black patent leather handbag clinking. Her sunglasses slid down her nose, revealing her eyes glinting with malice. "I'm here to see an old friend."
As Fiona stepped into the room, her metal heel ground heavily against the threshold, as if declaring some kind of ownership. The smell of disinfectant was instantly overpowered by her strong perfume. With each step she took, the sound of her dress sweeping the floor made my nerves tighten. She deliberately slowed her pace, the sound of her heels striking the floor clear in the silent room.
Fiona lowered her eyes, adjusting the lace on her sleeve, her dark red nails repeatedly stroking the delicate pearl buttons, not even glancing at me. "Why don't you keep hiding?"
I forced myself to meet Fiona's glittering eyes, my throat tightening. "What do you want?"
Fiona suddenly laughed, her polished nails covering her mouth, as if she'd heard the funniest joke.
She tilted her head, examining my crouched posture, her pearl earrings swaying gently. "You're this nervous? I'm just here to see an old friend, no need to act like you've seen a ghost."
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