But before she could continue, Hadley spun around and strode toward the wrecked white sedan.
By then, medics had already lifted Ayla out and placed her on a stretcher. Blood streaked her face and soaked her clothes, her body limp and motionless. Hadley’s swollen, tear-streaked eyes zeroed in on Ayla.
Without thinking, she lunged forward and seized Ayla’s collar. She shouted, her voice cracked and raw, “Wake up! Get up! Stop faking it!”
“Ma’am, you can’t do that!” a medic called out, rushing over to intervene. “She’s gravely hurt—she needs help right now!”
“Help?” Hadley let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “You really think she deserves help?”
Her glare burned into the medics, fury radiating from her. “What are you even saying? She’s the one who sent my friends to the bottom of the sea!”
Savannah’s and Elissa’s lives were hanging in the balance. If the worst happened and they didn’t make it, all the blame would land on Ayla—she would be a murderer.
“Someone like her doesn’t deserve to get help!” Hatred smoldered in Hadley’s eyes as she looked at Ayla’s bloodstained face. She gripped the stretcher tightly, unwilling to release her hold. “No! She stays right here! She’s not going anywhere!”
The medics exchanged nervous looks. One of them stepped forward and spoke firmly, “Ma’am, please—let us do our job. We’re here to save lives.”
Another medic chimed in, “If we don’t act now and something happens, you’ll be held responsible as well!”
A dry, empty laugh slipped from Hadley’s lips. Her despair spilled into every word. “Responsible? It doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
By now, nothing mattered to Hadley except finding out if Elissa and Savannah had survived.
A man’s voice then broke through the chaos at that moment. “Let me through!”
Given the situation, Tamara found herself powerless to change Hadley’s mind. Suddenly, a resonant male voice, thick with a foreign accent, pierced the chaotic scene.
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Beyond the police barricade, a man strained to break through, his urgency palpable.
Hadley glanced up and spotted a middle-aged figure clutching a convenience store bag, his arm outstretched toward the bridge as he pleaded, “Let me through… please!”
“Sir, you can’t cross!” an officer declared, barring his path with unwavering authority.
“That must be Mr. Brown,” Tamara said to Hadley.
Seizing the moment, she deftly pulled Hadley away from the stretcher. Ayla’s fate was not Tamara’s priority just then. Whether Ayla survived or not, Hadley shouldn’t bear the weight of blame—it would only taint her conscience later.
Tamara guided Hadley forward, offering a courteous nod to the man.
“Excuse me, are you Mr. Neville Brown?”
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Message from Noah: Have a great week dear readers! There will be new novels tomorrow. God loves you, and Noah wishes you all the best. ? ? ?
P.S. There readers, the linktree is now available: https://linktr.ee/ . There you’ll find all our links, including the website and the community—and soon, we’ll be releasing audio novels for you to enjoy ?( ? )