Chapter 1380 How Is the Rescue Going?
The chaotic world suddenly crystallized with startling clarity, everything reflected in her pupils tinged with the color of blood.
She fell to her knees beside Raymond, frantically trying to apply pressure to his wound.
"Help! Somebody help us!" she screamed.
Her cries echoed through the vast, empty space, bouncing back at her like a cruel taunt.
In this moment, the fog that had clouded her mind lifted completely. She shook Raymond's body, tears streaming down her face involuntarily.
Across the stairwell, Helen gripped the gun tightly, attempting to light a cigarette with trembling fingers that wouldn't cooperate.
A bodyguard stepped forward anxiously. "Helen, what should we..."
Helen slapped the back of his head in frustration. "What are you waiting for? Get him to a hospital! Any longer and we'll be planning a funeral!"
"Yes, right away," the man stammered.
Helen tried to descend the stairs but nearly collapsed, her legs suddenly weak beneath her.
'Fuck,' she thought. Next time, they could damn well find someone else for this job.
"Raymond!" Selena screamed as someone approached to move him.
She clutched him fiercely, like he was the most precious thing in existence, refusing to let anyone near.
Then suddenly, clarity struck her and she released him, getting to her feet. "The hospital. We need to get him to a hospital now."
Everyone at the fighting arena knew how important Raymond was. The bodyguard who came to help looked terrified.
Selena pushed him aside. "I'll do it," she said with newfound determination, draping Raymond's arm across her shoulders.
In the car, the bodyguard glanced at Selena through the rearview mirror.
She was holding Raymond's hand tightly, her expression eerily composed.
That bewilderment, innocence, and confusion—all gone now.
The bodyguard didn't dare contemplate what had just happened; he simply focused on getting Raymond to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Raymond was unconscious and needed immediate surgery.
Selena sat in the hallway, perfectly still and quiet.
Meanwhile, back at the underground fighting arena, Helen had downed three cups of tea but couldn't calm her racing heart.
Last night, she had suggested they merely stage the scene. Raymond had taken a drag from his cigarette and calmly replied, "That won't work. She's hypnotized, not stupid. Her powers of observation are sharper than ever. She'd know immediately if it was fake."
"Raymond, what if I actually kill you?" she had asked.
"Then I'll be dead," he had answered, so nonchalantly.
The memory made her blood boil. She anxiously asked someone nearby, "Any news? How's the surgery going?"
"The bullet missed his heart. He's not in critical condition."
Helen collapsed back into her chair, finally able to breathe again. She then said, "Bodhi, pour me another tea."
Bodhi was her most trusted bodyguard and occasional lover, just twenty years old.
While everyone else called her Helen, he always addressed her as Ms. Lynn.
"Ms. Lynn," he said respectfully, pouring tea into her cup while sneaking a glance at her face.
The normally composed Helen was visibly shaken; beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm getting too old for this. A few more incidents like this, and I won't be able to handle it."
"You're still young," Bodhi reassured her. "Not old at all."
Helen managed a weak smile, her face pale. "That madman... my trigger finger still feels numb."
Bodhi immediately knelt before her, head bowed as he gently massaged her hands.
Helen sighed with relief, leaning back in her seat.
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