Call off the Engagement
Three years ago, on the border with Myanmar.
“Dr. Thompson, we’ve found a shock victim.”
Emily Thompson cut the suture she was working with and, stethoscope in hand, moved to the side of the stretcher.
“Multiple rib fractures, sternum broken, weak heart sounds and pneumothorax. We need to get him back to the medical station for surgery.”
The search and rescue team lifted the stretcher and hurried off.
This was a Doctors Without Borders rescue team, stationed at the border for over half a month now.
The barren wilderness and forests, the fierce battles and fires, this land was endlessly roiled by blood and death.
Emily took off her sweat-soaked mask, and with the buzz of electricity, a familiar voice came from the walkie-talkie in her pocket.
“Emily, where are you?”
She looked around, “I just finished treating a patient in zone B, heading to zone A next.”
“Don’t. Come back immediately with everyone,” Ethan Jackson’s voice was gentle but carried a weight, “A new group of mercenaries has crossed the border, and unrest could break out at any moment. We need to evacuate ASAP.”
“But there are still survivors in zone A...”
Before she could finish, Ethan interrupted decisively, “Forget it, just come back.”
Emily stared at the walkie-talkie, her expression somber, lost in thought.
Seeing this, a nurse couldn’t help but urge, “Dr. Thompson, we should listen to Dr. Jackson.”
“You go ahead, tell him I’ll be back in half an hour at most.”
Emily picked up her medical kit, her figure shrinking in the desolate ruins under the blood-red setting sun.
Doctors Without Borders are the beacon of hope threading through hell.
She always remembered her teacher’s lessons, so she couldn’t turn away from those in need.
Zone A was a bombed-out factory. Walking over debris, Emily faintly heard a sentence.
“K, all the snipers have been dealt with.”
The sentence was in Burmese.
Following the sound, she looked down to find a piece of black fabric peeking through the cracks in the stones.
Someone was underneath?
She immediately lifted the stone slab, and as dust flew up, a bloodied man came into view.
His face was covered in mud, unrecognizable, with a visible gunshot wound on his left shoulder, the bleeding flesh grim and frightful.
“K, can you hear me?”
A cell phone on the ground flickered weakly before losing signal.
After checking the man for signs of shock and finding none, Emily quickly began to cut away his clothing.
Everything changed in an instant.
The man, presumed unconscious, suddenly opened his eyes, seizing her arm with overpowering strength and pinning her to the ground.
Emily swung her arm to break free, her knee striking hard at the man’s abdomen. As he dodged, a scalpel slid from her sleeve, its cold gleam emerging.
In the next second, the blade stopped half an inch from the man’s neck.
A Desert Eagle was pressed against her temple; Emily hadn’t even seen how he moved.
With such strength and quickness even while gravely injured, this man was extremely dangerous.
“Clang,” the scalpel fell to the ground. The man’s cold, dark eyes fixed on Emily, venomous like a snake.
“Doctor?” His voice was hoarse and rough.
Emily remained silent, showing no fear.
“If you don’t want to die, help me remove the bullet and stop the bleeding.”
The man’s aura was murderous, suggesting he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if she refused.
“Even if I help you, you could still kill me.”
He pressed the gun harder against Emily, causing her to wince in pain. Then he said, “I don’t like to harm women, provided they are obedient.”
After a moment, Emily closed her eyes briefly, then propped herself up, “Move the gun away and take off your shirt.”
The man, using one hand, tore off his blood-soaked shirt, revealing a muscular torso scarred with both fresh and old wounds.
Emily put on gloves, her gaze falling on his shoulder, “There’s no anesthetic.”
“Pain won’t kill me. Hurry up.” His eyes were cold and fierce, the gun now aimed at Emily’s lower back.
The pain from the gunshot wound was intense.
Without sterile conditions or anesthesia, it was unbearable for most people.
Yet the man made no sound, his hand holding the gun steady.
As if he had lost all sense of pain.
After bandaging and applying anti-inflammatory medication, Emily looked down, gripping the scalpel tightly.
If the man pulled the trigger, what were her chances of cutting his carotid artery?
“I won’t kill you.”
The Desert Eagle was withdrawn into the man’s hand. He stood up, his voice from above like that of a cunning demon.
“But that’s all. I won’t kill you.”
A sudden gust hit Emily; it was too late to dodge, and the intense pain at her neck sapped her strength.
Before losing consciousness, the last thing she saw was the wolf tattoo on the man’s back.
And then, the sound of a massive explosion in the distance.
---
As the sunset’s afterglow filtered through the window, Emily awoke from her dreams, momentarily unable to distinguish between dream and reality.
She extended her right hand, sliding off her watch strap to reveal a scar traversing her wrist— a remnant from three years ago. To this day, the memory of that bone-deep, tearing pain was vivid.
Knock, knock—
The door sounded with a knock, neither too light nor too heavy, and the voice of her elder brother, Alxander Thompson, came from outside.
“Em, it’s me.”
Emily donned a coat and opened the door to see Alxander in a formal black suit, his handsome face bearing a gentle smile. “Did I wake you?”
Emily shook her head. “No, are you going out?”
“Tonight is the Reed Corporation’s anniversary party. Chris Reed is planning to get engaged to the Hunters.”
She pondered for a moment before remembering who Chris Reed was.
Emily’s father and the Reeds were old family friends, having agreed to a child betrothal years ago.
However, there was nothing of the childhood sweetheart storyline between her and Chris.
Now, the idea of him wanting to escape this arranged marriage suited her just fine.
“Did Mom and Dad know about this?” Emily asked.
Alxander pushed his glasses up, a trace of iciness crossing his brow. ”Chris took it upon himself to decide. Even if he wants to call off the marriage, it’s not his place to decide.”
Hearing this, Emily appeared unconcerned. “It was bound to happen sooner or later; better to bring it up now.”
Alxander reached out to ruffle her hair. “But you shouldn’t be wronged. Go change into something nice; I’ll take care of it for you.”
Shortly after, Emily changed into a white dress and joined Alxander in their Rolls-Royce Cullinan.
With just a touch of makeup and without any elaborate jewelry, her beauty was nonetheless breathtaking.
Her petite face, skin like cream, and especially those cool, deer-like eyes beneath raven lashes, seemed to hold pools of water, captivating at a glance.
On the way, Emily looked out at the stream of cars and asked softly, “What do you plan to do, brother?”
“Whatever you want, I’ll support you.” Alxander always indulged her unconditionally.
The corners of Emily’s lips curved slightly. “If this engagement is to be broken, it must be done thoroughly, with no ties remaining.”
“Don’t worry, I have my ways,” Alxander said with an indulgent smile, changing the subject. “Mom and Dad are on their way back on the plane and will arrive tomorrow morning.”
Emily was surprised. “Weren’t they traveling in Farilione?”
“The Reeds harbored intentions they shouldn’t have; of course, there needs to be an explanation.”
Alxander’s tone was casual, but in reality, with just one phone call from him, the Thompson parents, who were visiting the Louvre, and his second brother Charls Thompson, dealing arms in M, had almost simultaneously arranged for private flights home.
Would anyone dare to bully the Thompsons′ treasured daughter without asking them first?
