Chapter99 Is She Going to Die Here?

Chapter99 Is She Going to Die Here?
Inside the dark, damp warehouse.
“Cough… cough, cough, cough!”
Miranda was choked awake by the thick smell of smoke.
She struggled to open her eyes, her head throbbing as if struck by a heavy hammer.
The surroundings were dim, with only gray-black smoke constantly seeping in through the cracks in the door and windows.
A fire?
The thought jolted through her, instantly clearing her mind.
She struggled to stand up, but her limbs were weak and heavy—a side effect of the sleeping drug.
“Is anyone… cough, cough…”
She opened her mouth to call for help, but her throat was dry and raw. The sound was barely a whisper.
Miranda bit her tongue, using the sharp pain to force herself to stay calm.
She looked around. This appeared to be an abandoned storage room, stacked with cardboard boxes and old medical equipment.
The door was locked from the outside. She pushed it hard a few times, but it wouldn't budge.
The smoke was getting thicker, and the temperature in the air was rapidly rising.
That nurse... no, that wasn’t a nurse at all. Someone wants me dead!
Miranda fought off the dizziness, feeling around on the floor.
Her phone was gone.
Her only means of calling for help was gone.
“Cough, cough…”
The smoke burned her lungs.
Miranda covered her mouth and nose, stumbling back into a corner, where she finally found a dirty towel next to a rusty bucket.
There was a little murky water inside.
Ignoring the filth, she soaked the towel, held it tightly over her mouth and nose, and kept low to the ground to breathe.
The fire outside seemed to be escalating; the crackling sound of things burning was clearly audible.
Despair, like a tidal wave, washed over her.
At the hospital, in the inpatient wing.
Clifton strode through the hallway, radiating an icy coldness that caused the nurses and patients to instinctively move out of his way.
He stopped in front of the third-to-last patient room, the one he had confirmed from his own investigation.
Through the small glass window on the door, he could see the scene inside.
The room was quiet.
Arabella was lying alone in bed, with an unfamiliar nurse sitting nearby.
Could it be that he truly misunderstood her?
That she really has been here taking care of her mother these past few days?
A wave of guilt washed over him, and Clifton tightened his grip on the doorknob.
Just then, Arabella’s weak voice drifted from the room.
“Why isn't Miranda back yet? It’s been almost an hour. How long does it take to get medicine?”
The nurse also sounded puzzled: “I know, I just checked at the nurse's station, and they said no one’s been there for a while. Her phone is off, too. Could she be lost?”
“That child, why is her phone off…” Arabella’s voice was anxious.
Outside the door, Clifton’s pupils abruptly constricted.
Gone for an hour?
Phone off?
In that moment, the persistent, ominous feeling in his heart exploded.
He spun around and rushed away, simultaneously pulling out his phone to quickly contact his subordinates to track Miranda’s location.
By the time he finished the call, Clifton's face was chalk-white.
As he reached the hospital lobby, he heard shouts echoing from the end of the corridor.
“Fire! There’s a fire! The old warehouse in the basement is burning!”
“Call the fire department! The fire is huge! Smoke is pouring out!”
Boom—!
Clifton’s mind went blank for a second.
The next second, he ran against the flow of terrified, fleeing people, charging toward the stairwell.
Inside the warehouse.
Miranda felt like she was dying.
The thick smoke seemed to be mixed with some kind of chemical agent; it was more than just choking—it was making her dizzy and starting to cause hallucinations.
Her consciousness began to drift.
“Cough… is anyone there…”
She used her last bit of strength to pound on the iron door, but the sound was completely swallowed by the sirens and the roar of the fire outside.
So hot.
So painful.
Is she really going to die here?
Her mother was waiting for her in the ward. If she died, what would happen to her mother?
And Clifton.
The man who always wore a cold face but stepped up whenever she was in danger.
She hadn’t seen him since their fight that day.
Was he still angry?
If he knew she was about to die, would he feel even a little bit sad?
Miranda managed a bitter smile, tears streaming down her face, instantly dried by the heat.
“Clifton…”
She murmured his name, her body slowly sliding down the door.
Just as her consciousness was about to completely sink into darkness, she thought she heard a massive crash from outside the door.
Bang—
Followed by that familiar voice, laced with urgency and fury, penetrating the smoke and entering her ears.
“Miranda!”
Is it a hallucination? It must be a hallucination.
He would never come to a place like this.
Clifton kicked open the iron door, which was hot and warped from the heat.
A blast of heat and thick smoke hit him, but he didn't even blink.
He saw the small figure huddled in the corner.
In that moment, Clifton felt his heart stop beating.
“Miranda!”
He roared, charging in recklessly.
Flames lashed out all around, and the ceiling was unstable.
Just as he was about to reach her.
Crack!
A burning support beam overhead gave way with a resounding noise, crashing down with a terrifying speed.
It fell directly between the two of them.
The flames instantly shot up, separating them.
Clifton was forced back a step, his eyes bloodshot.
“Miranda! Don’t you dare sleep! Look at me!”
He stared fiercely at the nearly unconscious woman on the floor through the dancing flames, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
“If you close your eyes, I swear I’ll never forgive you!”
Miranda struggled to lift her eyelids.
Through the firelight, she saw the man's face.
Smudged with ash, looking desperate, but so real.
He had come.
He really had come.
“Clifton…”
She moved her lips, unable to make a sound, but a glimmer of a will to live showed in her eyes.
“Wait for me!”
Clifton gritted his teeth, ripped off his jacket, and beat at the flames in front of him. Then, seeing a moment’s chance, he leaped across the wall of fire as if he had no fear of death.
He scooped the woman off the floor into his arms.
Her scorching temperature against his chest finally calmed his frantic, suspended heart.
“It’s okay. I’m taking you out.”
He murmured into her ear, his voice unbelievably gentle.
Miranda leaned into his embrace, inhaling the comforting blend of tobacco and sweat, and finally, peacefully, closed her eyes.
Clifton wrapped her tightly in his jacket, tucking her head against his chest.
“Hold on to me.”
With that, he held her close and sprinted toward the only exit, through the raging fire and smoke.