Chapter 138: Chapter 138: Annie, Don’t Be Reckless
"Kid, if we weren’t locked up here together, I wouldn’t care about you." Ann Vaughn muttered, lifting her eyelids, not knowing where such a little guy got so much hostility toward the outside world.
She struggled to pull out a small pack of the remaining healing powder from her sleeve, hesitated for a moment, and still tossed it back, "Catch."
Ann Vaughn couldn’t see if the packet landed in front of the boy, so she said, "This is a healing powder. No matter what pain you’re feeling, taking it will make you feel better."
Consider it a thank you for reminding me about the bomb.
In the corner, Wilder Sheridan glanced warily in Ann Vaughn’s direction, then finally reached out and quietly picked up the packet.
Hearing the sound from behind, Ann Vaughn knew he accepted her goodwill and fell silent, looking at the wooden hut’s window, sighing in her heart.
If she couldn’t think of a way to leave this damned place, then perhaps...
Suddenly, a strange scent drifted into Ann Vaughn’s nostrils, causing her to frown.
Why does this smell like... diesel?
Ann’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, and she hurriedly shouted, "Hey, kid, those people want to burn us alive, you..."
Before she could finish, a series of deep breaths answered her.
—She nearly forgot, the healing powder has a sedative component, making one feel so comfortable they immediately fall asleep.
Ann Vaughn hated the healing powder’s excellent efficacy for the first time!
"Wake up, now’s not the time to sleep!"
She attempted to awaken the boy, but by then the flames outside the cabin had already ignited, and the scorching smell rushed in, stinging Ann Vaughn’s eyes.
"Cough, cough cough cough..." Ann Vaughn coughed until tears streamed down her face, unable to cover her mouth and nose, she inhaled the thick smoke, soon feeling her throat go dry.
If things keep on like this, they would all die here!
But the only one able to move was already asleep, and if she moved, the bomb on the chair might explode.
Even if she racked her brain, she couldn’t think of a way to escape unscathed.
Ann’s face turned pale without a trace of blood, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her eyes reflecting the fire filled with unwillingness and despair.
There was already... no way out.
The flames gradually grew larger, layers of thick smoke rolled into the house, turning the entire room red as if it would devour everything.
Ann Vaughn’s struggling hands fell powerless, the last glimmer in her eyes swallowed by the tongues of fire.
Bang—
The wooden door suddenly burst open from the outside, and a tall, imposing figure stepped through the flames, walking against the blazing light, appearing in Ann Vaughn’s starless eyes.
In just a moment, that seemingly heaven-sent figure came to her.
"Ann Vaughn."
The familiar cool voice tapped her eardrum, like an invisible hand, dragging Ann Vaughn out of the swamp of despair and helplessness.
Ann Vaughn blinked in disbelief, then suddenly looked up, meeting a pair of deep-set, narrow eyes.
Whether it was her illusion or not, she seemed to see an unusual emotion of regret in those eyes for a brief moment.
"Cyrus?!" Ann Vaughn gaped at the man, whose handsome face softened slightly in the firelight, her heart skipping a beat.
As if in a desolate world, suddenly bursting with life, wherever his gaze landed, flowers bloomed.
Cyrus Hawthorne fixed his gaze on her dazed and shocked expression, his thin lips barely tightening, swiftly untying the ropes binding her.
But then he caught sight of the timer bomb behind her.
"That damned old man Orion." Cyrus glanced at the display on the bomb, his brows furrowing slightly, his voice low and vicious.
"What is it? Is the bomb..." Ann Vaughn asked, seeing Cyrus’s cold expression, a sense of foreboding in her heart.
Afterward, she shifted to look behind the chair, trying not to move her body away from it.
Who knew she’d see the six-minute countdown on the display.
When was the bomb triggered?!
Ann Vaughn broke out in a cold sweat, then saw Cyrus pull out a military knife, seemingly ready to disarm the bomb.
She watched him swiftly cut a wire, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest in shock.
She held her breath, even her breathing became lighter, despite her anxiety and fear, she tried not to interfere with his judgment.
Yet when there were only two wires left, Ann Vaughn’s heart clenched tightly.
Disregarding the increasingly terrifying flames, fear spread through her body, her scalp going numb.
"Wait!" She suddenly grabbed Cyrus’s slightly cool wrist, sweat beading on her forehead, but she forced a smile, "Let me cut the last wire. You take the boy out, then wait for me outside."
"Ann Vaughn, don’t be stubborn." Cyrus didn’t lift his eyes from the bomb, his handsome face calm and composed, as if the bomb were a piece of wood, unaffected by danger, "Trust me, alright?"
"I’m not being stubborn, this is the best solution." Ann Vaughn took a deep breath, her hand squeezing his wrist tightly, her eyes reflecting the firelight flashed with struggle and confusion.
Eventually turning into a long, gentle resolve.
She seized the knife from his hand, her mouth curling into a bright smile, "Really, I have good luck, and if I’m right, we can survive; but if you stay behind..."
How could she bear to see him die with her?
"If we lose, we’ll just die together, are you afraid?" Cyrus suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze akin to a joke landing on Ann Vaughn’s face, though his tone was strong and irrefutable.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes wavered with shock, she stared blankly at his tender face, her lips moving slightly, unable to utter a single word as if she had lost her voice.
Yet, more and more warmth pooled in her eyes, trickling out bit by bit.
A rare hint of panic flashed in Cyrus’s eyes, watching her cry with a small, dirty face, his throat moved slightly, "Why are you crying?"
"No, no, it’s not that," Ann Vaughn wiped her eyes with a hand, her throat already hoarse from the smoke, "My eyes hurt from the smoke, I’m not crying."
Cyrus’s hard facial lines softened slightly, taking her hand off the knife.
The knife in his hand hooked onto one of the two remaining wires, his voice deep as he spoke to her, "Are you ready?"
How could one be ready?
Ann Vaughn watched the fire burn larger, the heat and pain on her skin growing more intense. If the bomb wasn’t disarmed, they would be burned to death here.
What if they lost?
Just as Cyrus was about to cut one of the wires, Ann Vaughn suddenly hugged his neck.
Immediately, he heard Ann Vaughn’s gentle voice in his ear, somewhat hoarse, with a hint of a sob.
Damn, it’s actually kind of cute.
Yet, the sound of the fire mixed with the words in an indecipherable language, making it impossible to hear what she was saying.
Cyrus’s brows knitted slightly, and the knife in his hand flicked—