Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 181: Nyla tore strips from her shirt, wrapping her calf with trembling hands. The makeshift bandage was tight, her only hope to staunch the bleeding. She knew all too well that if it didn't stop, the forest might claim her life before anyone else could. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet, testing her weight on the injured leg. The pain shot through her like a hot blade, but before she could take another step, a faint rustling nearby froze her in place. Her instincts kicked in.

She crouched low, pulling a layer of leaves and branches over herself, willing her breath to still. "Boss, what now? We can't return empty-handed." "Ethan took the other one away?" Nyla's eyes widened. Ethan was here? He had taken Callie... Did Callie break her promise? Or had Ethan never wanted to save her? "Yeah, he even checked the warehouse like he was expecting to find something. You really think he's sweet on that Nyla? He didn't even bother to save her." "His future wife is the Higgins heiress.

Nyla might've stuck around for two years, but who cares about loyalty when there's money on the table?" "Enough with the gossip. Focus on the job. How do we finish this?" "Boss, we could still use Nyla. Hold her hostage, make Ethan play ball." "Forget it," the leader scoffed. "She's not worth the trouble anymore." The rest of their conversation faded, but Nyla had heard enough. Her ears rang as their words sank in, each one like a shard of glass cutting through her resolve. Her blood turned cold, and a crushing weight settled on her chest.

Slowly, her trembling fingers reached for her face, where she felt the damp trails of tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. Was she crying? The question lingered as she tried to connect with her emotions, but she felt nothing-no sorrow, no rage, not even the searing pain from her injured leg. For the first time, the truth crystallized with brutal clarity: Ethan had abandoned her. The woman he'd come to save wasn't her-it was Callie. Your story source gⱯlnσνℓs․com She was nothing more than a pawn, a convenience easily discarded when the game required it.

The thought rooted her in place, the weight of it threatening to bury her where she stood. Dawn had broken. Nyla limped forward, her face ashen, a blood-soaked cloth wrapped tightly around her left calf. The abandoned factory loomed ahead-a sanctuary of rust and shadows. Sometimes, the safest places were the ones nobody would think to look, she reasoned. Those people wouldn't dare return here. If Callie's escape route had led to Ethan, there must be a road nearby. The chances of encountering help were decent.

Scanning the factory's debris, Nyla retrieved an iron rod-rusted but sturdy enough to serve as a makeshift crutch. Each step was measured and deliberate. Meanwhile, at the hospital, doctors had cleared Callie after a thorough examination. Though physically unharmed, the trauma lingered. . . .