Chapter 643:
Rylie lowered her eyes to the data flashing across the monitor. “I’ll find a way. Just keep them alive.”
When the medic left, she studied the abnormal patterns in silence until her mind settled on one truth.
The toxin had either mutated or was a new, undocumented compound. With the avalanche having destroyed part of their samples, the key to Felix’s cure might have been buried in the snow.
Her brother’s life was slipping through her fingers. Her gaze darkened.
Ordinary antidotes wouldn’t work — they could even hasten his death. The only chance was to fight fire with fire. She had to isolate the toxin, extract it pure, and then craft a serum to counter it.
But time was cruel. His organs could give way at any moment, and she had less than seven days to succeed.
Someone had to return to the shattered mine and search for the missing toxin.
A place where death waited at every turn.
Who else could go but her?
Rylie sat in silence for a long moment, then removed her mask. From her Crolens medical kit, she drew three rare injections — precious beyond words, worth hundreds of millions, able to pull someone back from death’s edge.
Each dose bought only twenty-four hours. She passed them to the medic. “Give one to whoever worsens. It will keep them steady. I need time to prepare the serum. Help me hold them here.”
The seasoned medic nodded at once. “Understood. Leave it to me.”
Rylie returned the nod.
Inside the tent, the air smelled of disinfectant, sharp against the earthy scent of rain. Bright lights glared overhead.
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Brad lay half-reclined on a cot, his chest bare, wrapped in blood-stained bandages that bloomed crimson like flowers. Another medic was tending to a deep cut on his leg.
Rylie pushed aside the tent flap and entered, carrying the chill of rain-soaked air with her.
Her eyes fell on the brutal wounds across Brad’s body. Her pupils shrank ever so slightly.
“Let me.” Rylie’s voice was calm as she took the clean gauze and ointment from the medic.
Sensing the moment, the medic slipped quietly out of the tent, leaving only the two of them. The rain’s patter against the canvas became the only sound. Brad lifted his gaze to her. Her face was steady, yet in her eyes he caught a shadow she couldn’t quite hide.
He let her draw near, her cool fingers carefully unwrapping the blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder.
“How’s Felix? Did the antidote work?” His voice was rough, worn down by pain and exhaustion.
Her hand faltered for a heartbeat before she resumed stitching. She tied the thread neatly, then spread ointment across the wound with precise, gentle strokes.
Her fingers were cool, yet her touch carried a quiet tenderness.
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.
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