Chapter 722: The Feud (27) The Last Man of the Royal Wells Family

After Theodore left, Oscar carefully lifted Cian's battered body onto his back. As children, Cian had clung to Oscar. Despite not living together and Oscar's lack of deep affection for his younger brother, Cian instinctively sought his older brother's proximity. For reasons unknown, Cian invariably clung to Oscar upon his arrival, refusing to let go. For a long time, Oscar, wanting no entanglement, acquiesced to Cian's requests. Eventually, however, he grew accustomed to it, often carrying Cian on his back during playtime.

"Cian," Oscar's voice was hoarse. He adjusted Cian on his back. "Let me carry you... to play." His voice trailed off, fading into silence.

The last time Oscar had carried Cian was when Cian was twelve. Thereafter, despite Cian's pleas and endearing attempts, Oscar refused, believing they were too old for such things. He saw the disappointment in Cian's eyes but remained firm, dismissing Cian's actions as childish attention-seeking.

Only now did Oscar understand Cian's actions stemmed from a desire to avoid separation. It mirrored Oscar's own feeling now—a desperate wish to keep Cian, to carry him forever. He carried the body from the villa.

The sun shone brightly outside, a sight Cian would never see again.

Theodore was in the hall, the Wells army with him. Balderston's forces, dead and alive, were being tended to. Some remaining confederates fled; the rest were demoralized and unwilling to fight. Theodore searched, a heavy weight in his heart. He imagined finding Hannah and Manuel's bodies—would he hide them from Oscar? He gritted his teeth and pressed on.

He suddenly recognized someone—Jimmy, lying lifeless, riddled with bullet wounds. Theodore suppressed his grief and worry for Hannah.

Instead of searching, he yelled, "Manuel!" He couldn't bear the sight of their corpses. He called again, "Manuel!"

The Wells army paused, but no one interrupted. They continued their tasks.

"Manuel, I'm fucking asking you to answer me..." Theodore's eyes burned. He believed Manuel was dead. Manuel never joked; he wouldn't ignore him.

Theodore sank to the ground, his composure shattered unlike Oscar's. He felt death's destructive power for the first time. Tears streamed down his face as he blamed himself for his perceived lack of strength. Death wasn't new—he'd faced it countless times in training—yet this was different.

Then, he heard a voice. He thought he was hallucinating. "Theodore," the weak, familiar voice repeated.

He whirled around and saw Manuel, blood-soaked, lying nearby.

"You're alive!" Theodore exclaimed, a statement that inadvertently burdened Manuel with guilt. He'd been unconscious after the explosion, but survived. Hearing a voice, he'd opened his eyes to see Theodore's despair.

"Where's Hannah?" Theodore asked, relief flooding him.

Manuel glanced towards Hannah's hiding place—an area of the villa that had sustained minimal damage, a testament to Cian's attempt to protect her. She was likely alive.

Theodore ran to the spot Manuel indicated. There, in a corner, sat Hannah, head buried, blood staining the ground beneath her.

"Hannah?" Theodore whispered gently.

She moved slightly, slowly raising her head. Seeing her alive, Theodore wept, his relief overwhelming. Hannah's survival was crucial; otherwise, he feared Oscar would end his own life.

"Is Oscar here?" she asked.

Theodore nodded, quickly wiping away his tears, ashamed of his emotional display.

"Where is he?"

Theodore hesitated. He couldn't tell her that Oscar was with Cian, and Cian was dead.

"Is Cian dead?" she asked.

Theodore's silence confirmed it. Tears flowed down Hannah's face. The Wells family's cherished one was gone.

"Leave them alone. Let me take you out of here."

Theodore lifted her; she didn't resist. She felt useless, believing Oscar wouldn't want to see her, that Cian's death was her fault, a sin she couldn't atone for.

Theodore carried Hannah away. Manuel remained behind. Theodore felt Manuel would survive, so he didn't insist on immediate medical attention. Oscar needed someone.

Manuel slowly made his way to a secluded spot outside the villa—the burial place of his cousin's parents. The grave was empty now, but soon, it would hold Cian's body. He found Oscar there, digging with his bare hands, his fingers stained with mud and blood.

"Hannah's alive," Manuel said.

Oscar's throat tightened. Some emotions were too deep to conceal.

"Let me help you," Manuel offered, kneeling to assist. They would bury Cian with his parents.

From that moment on, Oscar was the last of their family of four.