Chapter 320 Danger (9) Her Savior
Hannah wasn't shot. Bound by the men, she was forced into a black car, her mouth gagged. In the quiet night, the small town appeared isolated against the dark sky, a crescent moon hanging ethereally. Foot traffic was minimal.
Hannah had no idea where they were taking her. Terror consumed her; even her repeated brushes with death hadn't prepared her for this cold dread.
The car lurched to a stop, jarring Hannah. Her fear intensified, her wide eyes fixed on the men. Gagged, she was speechless, escape impossible.
Still bound, she was pulled from the car. The location struck a familiar chord—the spot where she and Theodore had rescued Thoth the previous night. She braced herself for the Blue River; Theodore had described the drug dealers' common method of disposal.
It was a chillingly effective way to kill and conceal a crime. No bullets, no trace—simply weighted bodies tossed into the river, undiscoverable unless the riverbed ran dry. Countless victims, countless lost souls.
The thought fueled Hannah's rage, overriding even her fear. She'd never imagined such depravity could exist in such a place. As this horrifying realization dawned, she felt a rock being tied to her.
The men's faces were cold, indifferent—desensitized to the act. Was human life nothing to them? If she survived, she vowed to bring them to justice, to avenge this place.
A shudder of fear wracked her body. She was shoved toward the riverbank. Below the dam, the gloomy river flowed, the moonlight weak, obscuring its depths. The rushing current was barely perceptible. A single push would send her into the churning water, swept away forever.
Terror overwhelmed her, fueling dreadful imaginings. Then, the brutal throw. Overpowered, she had no chance to resist.
The icy water closed over her. Hannah could swim, but the hundred-pound rock rendered her struggle futile. She sank, her lungs burning.
She held her breath, desperately seeking a way out. But as the darkness enveloped her, suffocation crept in. A wave of sadness washed over her—the primal desire for life, the longing for loved ones.
Hannah reviewed her life. Her short, reborn existence. Unpaid debts to enemies, unfulfilled filial duties, and unspoken love for a beloved man—all regrets.
Unconsciousness beckoned, the memory of her former life's stabbing vividly returning. The sensation of death was identical.
Despair threatened to consume her, then—a figure swimming toward her. A jolt of life surged through her. Her eyes widened as the figure grew larger, until it reached her. Strong hands grabbed her, a sharp dagger severing the bonds, freeing her from the rock.
Suddenly lightened, she thrashed to the surface, the rescuer following, supporting her ascent. Gasping for breath, relief flooded her. She had cheated death. The simple act of breathing felt miraculous.
She was hauled to the bank. Her savior: Oscar, unexpectedly appearing once more to rescue her from peril. He always seemed to be there when she needed him most.
Her vision swam. Happiness felt both simple and elusive. She clung to Oscar's clothes. He sensed her terror and carried her ashore, where Theodore and Jimmy waited. They helped them from the water.
A cold wind whipped through the night, causing Hannah to sneeze. Theodore hesitated, then saw Oscar, his face grim, take Hannah's hand and lead her to the car. Theodore and Jimmy remained silent, intimidated by Oscar's anger.
Jimmy looked to Theodore for guidance on whether to join them. They remained rooted to the spot until Oscar's cold voice commanded, "Get in the car!"
Theodore leaped in, followed by Jimmy. The car started, its destination uncertain. Jimmy had only been told to wait.
"Drive back to Kensbury City," Oscar ordered.
Relief washed over Jimmy. He finally knew what to do. In the back seat, Oscar draped a clean coat—one he’d had in the car—over Hannah's shivering form. He remained soaked, making no effort to warm himself.
"Do you need a towel?" Theodore tentatively asked.
Oscar’s glare silenced him. Theodore recoiled; he felt he'd somehow offended Oscar, even just by breathing. It wasn't his fault; it was all Hannah's doing, he muttered internally.