Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
With the arm secured, Roscoe examined it closely, realizing how daunting the task would be. Nicole, eager to help, assisted Roscoe in repositioning himself for a better angle to guide the procedure.
But as Nicole moved to help, Jarrod’s displeasure deepened. It seemed to him that Nicole and Roscoe shared a connection, a bond that left him feeling like an outsider in this moment of crisis.
Unaware of Jarrod’s thoughts, Nicole was solely focused on assisting, driven by guilt over earlier events. Yet, she didn’t fully regret her actions—she had made a difficult choice that she believed was necessary.
Roscoe, summoning his remaining strength, raised his hand to give a directive. “Right here. Don’t stray from this point.”
Jarrod, accustomed to high-pressure situations, focused intently. His hands were steady as he made a precise incision.
He knew hesitation wouldn’t save Alec; any delay would only increase the risk. Even if the helicopter arrived, the arm would still need to be amputated. The urgency of the situation demanded swift action.
However, the conditions were far from ideal. Jarrod lacked medical gloves, and the knife he used was no surgical instrument. His hands grew slick with blood, creating a grim scene.
After two failed attempts, Jarrod paused. “This isn’t working. The knife can’t cut through the bone.”
It was, after all, just a regular knife, not a bone saw. Roscoe, unfazed by the blood and urgency, corrected him, “Your angle is off. There’s a joint between the bones that’s shifted from the impact.”
Roscoe felt around with his hand, and after a brief search, directed, “You need to cut from here.”
Such precision typically required a professional doctor. The average person might find it challenging, but Jarrod, guided by Roscoe’s expertise, took a deep breath and prepared to make another cut.
Just then, a groan erupted from Alec. “Ah… Ugh…”
Alec had regained consciousness, his eyes fluttering open to settle on Jarrod. “Sir… Damn it! That woman didn’t pull you… She pulled her lover… Ah…” His words trailed off as a grimace of pain contorted his face.
Nicole’s face blanched upon hearing Alec’s accusation. She remained silent, knowing it was true—she hadn’t helped Jarrod.
Roscoe seemed about to speak, but Nicole pressed down on his arm, silencing him before he could defend her.
Jarrod appeared unaffected by Alec’s words, his focus elsewhere. The pain refocused Alec on his own condition. He stared at his blood-soaked, numb arm and asked, “What happened?”
“Your arm was crushed,” Jarrod responded calmly. “It needs to be amputated.”
Alec fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
His complexion turned ashen, his expression unreadable as he struggled to come to terms with the loss. The arm in question was his right, and Alec was not left-handed.
The prospect of a future without his dominant arm was daunting.
In the midst of Alec’s silence, Jarrod spoke again, “There’s no anesthesia here. You’ll have to endure it.”
Jarrod’s tone was steady, almost cold, but those who knew him understood. It wasn’t indifference; it was a manifestation of concern, a focus on ensuring Alec survived this ordeal.
“Okay,” Alec replied, his voice steady. He knew that any hesitation would only increase the risk. Yet internally, Alec was grappling with profound fear.
If he lost his arm, he felt he would rather die. To him, becoming disabled was an unacceptable fate.
But he also felt he owed his life to Jarrod, and since Jarrod hadn’t given up on him, he couldn’t give up either. “Please proceed.”
Jarrod handed Alec a quick-drying towel to bite on for the pain and then carefully located the spot Roscoe had indicated earlier.
After adjusting the position, Jarrod looked to Roscoe for final confirmation. As the only medical expert present, Roscoe’s approval was crucial.
Roscoe rechecked the site, touching it once more, and nodded in approval.
Jarrod, known for his remarkable courage, maintained his composure even in such dire circumstances. He made a precise incision into Alec’s arm.
Alec’s expression twisted in agony, sweat beading on his forehead, his face draining of color until it was ashen.
Despite the excruciating pain, he remained stoically silent, enduring the ordeal without a sound.
Jarrod’s actions were devoid of unnecessary sentimentality. Decisive and swift, he cut off Alec’s arm with the precision of a man who knew there was no room for error.
“Ah!” Alec couldn’t suppress a muffled scream as his right arm was severed.
His face was drenched, blurred with either sweat or tears. From that moment, he knew he would never be whole again.
As the arm was removed, blood surged from the wound.
With scant medicine available to stop the bleeding, Jarrod used what little they had on Alec’s stump.
With no other options, and his own clothes in tatters, Jarrod quickly tore off the bodyguard’s suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around Alec’s wound.
However, the makeshift bandage quickly became saturated, the blood staining the ground beneath them a deep red.
Jarrod’s expression turned grim as he glanced upward, searching for any sign of the helicopter. He directed the other two men to find higher ground to signal for help.
They waited for what felt like an eternity, though it was only about a minute. Nicole, observing silently, felt her own torment. Though Jarrod remained silent, a palpable, icy tension radiated from him, affecting everyone nearby.
The bodyguard finally returned, heralding the helicopter’s arrival with the sound of its engines piercing the air, providing Nicole with a deep sense of relief. Alec could still be rescued.
The helicopter, unable to land due to the rugged terrain, released a rescue line with an inflatable pad attached. The bodyguards meticulously placed Alec on the pad, secured him, and then the line gradually hoisted him up.
As the helicopter had limited capacity, three bodyguards remained on the ground, preparing to wait for the next opportunity to leave.
Nicole initially thought she would be staying with the three bodyguards. However, as Jarrod boarded the helicopter, he paused to look back, his tone sharp. “What are you waiting for?”
Nicole, caught off guard, froze momentarily.
“Get in,” Jarrod commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.
Nicole hesitated, her mind filled with concerns about leaving Roscoe behind. Although the fire had significantly reduced the threat of the parasites, she couldn’t be sure all were eliminated.
Her trust in the remaining bodyguards was shaky, particularly because one of them had previously failed to hold onto Roscoe.
This was not the moment for what-ifs, however. Nicole knew Jarrod too well. Once he decided on something, no argument could sway him.
Jarrod, noticing her reluctance, added icily, “If you don’t want him to be tonight’s feast for the wild animals, you’ll board now.”
With those words, Jarrod turned and ascended the rope ladder into the helicopter.
Nicole felt the sting in his words and the stress washed over her, paling her face. She recognized the growing divide between her and Jarrod, one that seemed insurmountable.
At that moment, Roscoe, sensing her hesitation, reassured her gently, “Nicole, I’ll be okay. Go with Mr. Schultz. I’ll catch the next one.”
Roscoe’s concern wasn’t for himself but for leaving Nicole in such perilous conditions. His priority was ensuring her safety by departing the area as swiftly as possible.
Nicole understood that her insistence on staying might only escalate the situation and put Roscoe at greater risk.
With the current turmoil surrounding her father’s case and the Watts family, she knew now was not the time to provoke Jarrod.
Turning to the three bodyguards, Nicole did not immediately meet Roscoe’s gaze but instead issued a firm directive.
“Ensure Mr. Watts is well looked after. Should anything happen to him, you will be held personally accountable.” Her voice was stern, imbued with commanding authority.
Nicole’s concern for Roscoe’s safety in these bodyguards’ care wasn’t unfounded.
Just now, in her and Jarrod’s presence, one of the bodyguards had dared to release Roscoe at the critical moment.
She wasn’t sure if they would overstep in her and Jarrod’s absence.
Recognizing Nicole as Jarrod’s wife, the bodyguards did not slacken their diligence. “Yes, ma’am,” they replied.
Nicole nodded in acknowledgment, certain that her status as Jarrod’s wife reinforced their obedience.
Roscoe’s expression briefly betrayed sadness, which he quickly concealed.
Turning to Roscoe, Nicole remarked, “See you in Ardlens.” Her voice was clear and firm, ensuring the bodyguards grasped the gravity of her directive.
Roscoe gave a subtle nod in acknowledgment. He watched silently as Nicole boarded the helicopter, concealing his emotions.
Inside the helicopter, the air was tense and cold. Jarrod’s presence was icy and silent, adding to the chill.
Nicole, sitting in silence, clearly felt uneasy. Jarrod’s coldness was unlike anything she had previously witnessed.
She was familiar with his many facets—be it his violence, his warmth with others, or his casual demeanor with her—but this frosty aloofness was new.
Nicole’s thoughts also lingered on Alec, whose importance to Jarrod had deepened significantly since both Jarrod and Alec had lost their parents. Alec, family-like to Jarrod, was central in Jarrod’s life.
Nicole couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of responsibility considering Alec’s grave injury risk. She could have warned Jarrod sooner to avoid the falling tree.
Yet, at that crucial moment, her attention was entirely focused on Roscoe, left defenseless by the deserting bodyguard.
This left Nicole wrestling with guilt, regardless of the decisions she had made. The relief that Alec was still alive was a small comfort. His death would have been too much to bear.
The weight of silence hung between Jarrod and Nicole all the way to the hospital.
There, the doctor delivered a grave prognosis after examining Alec.
“Mr. Schultz, this gentleman is severely injured, but fortunately, his arm was amputated in time. Otherwise, he might never have regained consciousness.”