Chapter 1245:
Prince Randell stared back, his eyes hard and unwavering.
A curl of disdain played at Torin’s mouth. “You honestly think you’re cut out for that kind of power?”
Fury painted Prince Randell’s face crimson as he thumbed off the safety. “You’re begging for a world of trouble!”
But before the shot could be fired, a bullet rang out, hitting Prince Randell’s wrist.
Cries erupted as the Royal Guard sprang into action. “We’ve got assassins! Everyone, stay alert!”
Unfazed, Torin crushed the last of his cigarette between his fingers and looked up with deliberate calm. “You’re not qualified to kill me.”
One subtle gesture from Torin, and figures materialized from the darkness—the Shadow operatives closing in to protect him.
Prince Randell’s confidence faltered, realizing Torin had come prepared. Trapped and cornered, he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Don’t get used to being on top! Your luck will run out!”
Without warning, Royal Guards and Torin’s allies clashed, throwing the room into utter chaos.
Shots rang out, and in the chaos, a bullet found its mark—Tinsley was struck down by an unknown shooter.
A desperate voice cut through the turmoil. “Princess Tinsley’s been hit!” Everything ground to a halt as both factions froze.
On the floor, Tinsley lay motionless, blood pooling beneath her as consciousness slipped away.
News of his sister’s shooting sent Lance barreling through palace halls, the royal physician scrambling to keep up.
A rapid examination brought a grim look to the physician’s face. “The bullet is lodged dangerously close to her heart, tangled among nerves and vessels. I can’t operate. It’s too risky.”
Nerves frayed, the physician struggled to hide his panic. The slightest mistake would mean Princess Tinsley’s life, and that was a burden he couldn’t carry. Lance’s desperation boiled over as he seized the physician’s collar. “What are you saying? Am I supposed to just stand here and let my sister die?”
Terror flickered in the physician’s eyes as he swallowed hard, words failing him at first. But then, something clicked in his memory, and he blurted, “There’s one person—someone with the skill to save her…”
A ragged, pleading edge crept into Lance’s voice. “Who is it? Tell me!”
Fingers loosened their grip, and the physician caught a shaky breath. Steadying himself, he finally said, “The Healer is in Yoswye right now. She’s the only one who can pull Princess Tinsley through. But you’ll have to find her quickly—”
Lance didn’t wait for another word. He was already gone, sprinting down the corridors. A moment later, he burst into Elena’s room, breath coming in gasps. “You have to come with me—there’s someone only you can help save!”
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