Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
The area teemed with parasites, as every nest had ruptured, continuously releasing more creatures into their perilous environment.
The sheer magnitude of parasites made it impossible for human efforts alone to prevail, and their only shield, the fire sticks, provided mere fleeting defense.
As the urgency mounted with each passing second, Nicole, with a softer tone, implored, “Help me save him, and I owe you one.”
Despite his initial hesitance, Nicole’s plea influenced Jarrod. He handed her an unlit fire stick for self-protection.
“Keep vigilant and defend yourself,” he instructed before moving to the rear of the lotus platform where Roscoe was bound. Jarrod swiftly severed the bindings, revealing his proficiency.
Roscoe was visibly surprised by Jarrod’s aid, given their strained history.
He managed a genuine, “Thank you.”
However, Jarrod’s response was chilling. He kept his knife drawn, pressing it slightly against Roscoe’s throat with a menacing whisper.
“Stay away from my wife, or next time, I won’t hesitate.” Roscoe remained silent, his expression stern.
Nicole, alert to the encroaching parasites, called out, “Are you done?”
Jarrod, after a final look at Roscoe, sheathed his knife and replied, “Yes.”
Nicole turned and saw Roscoe, fatigued and pale, leaning against the lotus platform. “Jarrod, carry him out of here,” Nicole commanded.
Jarrod paused, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “Carry him?” He believed he had already done his part by not leaving Roscoe behind.
Nicole, noticing Jarrod’s hesitation, urged, “We need to move fast. He’s been drugged and can’t walk.” She knew the drug’s effects well, having experienced its potent but paralyzing impact before.
It left the user incapacitated for a couple of hours while it worked. Recovery for Roscoe could take even longer, given the dosage he had been fed.
Jarrod looked at Roscoe, who showed no desire to be carried, and seemed conflicted.
Roscoe, not wanting to leave Nicole in a pickle, insisted, “No need. Get Nicole to safety and leave me.”
Nicole quickly retorted, “This isn’t the time for valor. We can’t waste time.” The parasites were relentless, hunger driving them to attack. Any moment of hesitation would make them prey.
While Roscoe stayed quiet, Nicole’s gaze at Jarrod was pleading.
Jarrod raised an eyebrow and remarked, “Didn’t you hear? He doesn’t want help.” Nicole, growing frustrated with the delay, couldn’t hide her irritation.
Nicole was incredulous at their interaction, which seemed childish given the dire circumstances. “If you’re not going to carry him, then I will,”
Nicole declared, beginning to bend down despite her injuries. However, she doubted her strength to even lift Austin, much less Roscoe.
Jarrod, with a frosty look, begrudgingly bent down. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
Roscoe, however, continued to sulk and was uncooperative. Nicole had no option but to manually place Roscoe’s arm over Jarrod’s shoulders to ensure compliance. Reluctantly, Roscoe looped his arm around Jarrod’s neck.
Observing Roscoe’s reluctance, Nicole chided, “Stop acting like a child.”
Roscoe quietly responded, “I’m not.” His resistance wasn’t about being uncooperative; he simply didn’t want to be further indebted to Jarrod, which he felt undermined his position when facing Nicole.
Hearing Nicole’s reprimand, Jarrod felt his anger lessen and agreed. “You are being difficult.”
Exasperated, Roscoe’s face darkened even more. Nicole hastily said, “Can we please just get moving?”
At last, Jarrod stopped piquing and signaled to Alec and his team. “Let’s move out.”
Just then, Nicole noticed the senior man’s body was overrun by parasites, a ghastly and pitiful sight. It was clear there was no saving him now.
Nicole realized that refusing to stay in the tree any longer was the senior man’s choice, a choice made after fulfilling his need for vengeance, leaving him with no desire to continue living.
As dawn began to break, Alec and the others approached Jarrod. The senior man, standing suddenly, held a fuse and yelled defiantly, “These cursed insects will die with me!”
The senior man swiftly pulled the fuse, igniting the oil he had spread earlier, sending flames tearing through the pre-dug trenches, quickly encircling them in fire.
The senior man schemed to trap the parasites with fire to prevent them from harming others.
Nicole finally understood the reason behind the senior man’s insistence that she leave before dawn. He had orchestrated the timing to eradicate the parasites alongside himself.
“Run!” Nicole yelled.
Startled by the flames, the parasites halted their chase, dispersing in all directions. Jarrod, carrying Roscoe, sprinted swiftly, with Alec and the others close behind. They soon found an exit and hurried through.
After they departed the area, the flames swiftly converged, engulfing the hidden base of the witch clan. Several witches, who had managed to flee but not far enough, were frozen in terror, clinging to one another, weeping.
Nicole observed the ferocious blaze, hoping it would eradicate not only the parasites but also the malevolent practices of these witches. The fire started to spread to the ancient trees encircling the site.
If these millennia-old behemoths were to catch fire, the inferno would become unstoppable.
Sensing imminent danger, Nicole urgently exclaimed, “We need to move, now!”
Just as Nicole spoke, a colossal tree, undermined at its roots by the insects, began to fall. It leaned perilously toward Jarrod and Roscoe, the latter being steadied by a bodyguard.
The bodyguard, recognizing the imminent threat, released Roscoe and stepped away.
Reacting instinctively, Nicole cried out, “Watch out!” She hastily pulled Roscoe aside just in time.
At the same moment, a distressing shout of “Sir!” echoed as Alec lunged toward Jarrod, trying to push him out of the tree’s devastating path.
The massive tree thundered down, striking the earth and leaving a huge crater behind. If they hadn’t moved when they did, they would have been crushed.
Just as Nicole caught her breath, a scream split the air. The bodyguards shouted, “Alec! Alec!” and rushed over.
Alec had shielded Jarrod from the tree’s fall, and now his right arm was trapped beneath the heavy trunk. His complexion was pale, his typically strong appearance reduced to fragility.
Nicole’s heart dropped as she looked at Jarrod, noticing his icy gaze. It was then she realized Jarrod had been in the tree’s dangerous path as well. Without Alec’s intervention, Jarrod would have been crushed.
Nicole had considered saving Jarrod and thought, with his agility, he could evade the tree easily.
Roscoe, however, seemed vulnerable, especially after being left by the bodyguard, compelling her to act instinctively to pull Roscoe to safety.
Jarrod’s eyes, filled with disappointment and anger, met Nicole’s. She wanted to explain her actions, but his aloofness signaled he wasn’t receptive to her words.
Instead, he kneeled to assess Alec’s injuries, his focus having shifted to Alec.
Nicole remained silent, realizing that no explanation could amend the situation now.
Alec’s condition was critical. Unconscious from the pain, his arm hung by mere skin at the shoulder, the underlying bone and tissue visibly damaged.
Several men attempted to lift the tree, but the task was unmanageable. Weighing tons, the tree’s removal required heavy machinery, unavailable deep in the mountainous terrain.
Even if Jarrod could arrange for cranes, Alec’s chances of surviving the delay were slim.
Jarrod, visibly frustrated, asked, “Has the helicopter arrived?”
“We can’t get a signal,” one of the bodyguards replied.
“Find higher ground and signal it, now!” Jarrod commanded, and a bodyguard quickly departed to carry out the order.
Roscoe, mustering his energy, examined Alec’s condition and declared, “His arm needs to be amputated, or he won’t survive.”
Jarrod’s expression darkened dangerously. “Keep quiet!” he snapped.
Nicole, acting on impulse, tugged at Roscoe’s sleeve, urging him to remain silent to avoid further inciting Jarrod.
However, driven by a profound sense of medical duty, despite his personal feelings toward Alec, Roscoe couldn’t remain silent.
Plus, Roscoe felt indebted to Jarrod, and saving Alec might lessen that debt. Anyway, a living person’s life was at stake.
With resolute urgency, Roscoe said to Jarrod, “If we don’t amputate now, he might not last even half an hour.”
Roscoe persisted, “Even if the helicopter arrives, there’s no way to move the tree. The arm still needs to be cut off. The situation won’t improve without that.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion, as he addressed the grim reality of the situation.
Roscoe’s current weakness prevented him from performing the task himself, so he instructed Jarrod with an unwavering resolve.
Jarrod, not a trained surgeon, knew the critical nature of an amputation. One wrong move could be fatal.
He hesitated, glancing at Alec’s pale face and bloodless lips, then reluctantly took out a knife.
His hands, usually so steady in high-stakes situations, felt heavy with the weight of what he was about to do.
“Sanitize the blade with alcohol,” Roscoe instructed, his voice cutting through the tension. “Tear off a strip of cloth and tie his arm tightly.”
The bodyguard began to comply, but Jarrod took over, securing Alec’s arm with such tightness that only when he was satisfied it was secure did he move on.
Alec had been more than just a bodyguard; he had become like family to Jarrod over the years.
Now, Jarrod felt the burden of ensuring the procedure was done with precision, even if he lacked the necessary skills.