Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Nicholas fell silent for a long time, the sound of rain outside growing heavier.

Diana didn't push him. She simply stared at him without blinking. She knew Nicholas too well—when he was angry, his voice rose. When he was guilty, he went quiet.

"Holden has nothing to do with you." He finally spoke.

Diana let out a short laugh. "If he really had nothing to do with me, you wouldn't be this afraid of me finding out."

"I'm not afraid."

"Then look at me and say it."

Nicholas turned around. They stood less than six feet apart, their eyes locked. Diana's face was deathly pale, but her gaze pressed down on him like a blade.

Nicholas clenched his fists at his sides. "Holden is Lindsey's child. Everything else—we'll discuss it after the investigation is complete."

"Do you even believe that yourself?"

Diana scoffed and turned toward the adjoining room.

Terry had already patched the interrogation room's surveillance feed into the hospital room TV. The man was strapped to a chair while David examined the remnants of a tattoo on his wrist.

Diana looked away. "If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself."

"Diana, stay out of this." Nicholas's voice dropped. "Someone killed to keep this secret. If you keep digging, you'll only drag yourself deeper in."

"From the moment they tracked me to the safe house and opened fire, I was already in." Diana raised her right arm, wrapped in bandages, and gave it a little shake.

"Or do you think that as long as you keep it from me, I should just keep playing the fool who knows nothing?"

Nicholas had no answer.

On the monitor, the interrogation had begun. David tossed an evidence bag onto the table. "Name."

The man kept his eyes closed. No response.

"Who hired you?"

Still nothing. David didn't waste words. He grabbed the man's wrist where the tattoo remnants were and wrenched it backward.

A soft crack. Sweat beaded on the man's forehead, but his lips didn't budge.

"In The Scavengers, I don't have a name. Only a number." He spoke slowly. "You've caught me, but you won't get anything out of me."

"Is that so?" David picked up the ampule filled with potassium chloride. "The organization sent you to silence witnesses, but they didn't arrange an extraction. If you die, they won't even collect your body. Is it worth keeping their secrets?"

The man opened his eyes, about to speak, when his body suddenly went rigid. The metal chair rattled violently.

His pupils constricted sharply. His shoulders and arms began to convulse. White foam poured from his nose and mouth as the monitors shrieked alarms.

The doctor stationed in the interrogation room rushed forward. "Release the restraints! Prepare diazepam!"

The man's heart rate plummeted. His oxygen saturation dropped from ninety-seven to seventy-two.

Terry's face changed. "He had poison hidden in his mouth?"

The doctor checked his oral cavity. "No! No fresh injection sites in his veins either!"

Nicholas immediately grabbed the radio. "Resuscitate him. We need him alive."

Diana was also startled by the sudden turn of events.

But she quickly steadied herself, rapidly scanning every detail on the screen.

The image shook with the doctor's movements. The man's right shoulder was torn open, revealing an old gunshot wound. The edges of the scar had an unnatural grayish-blue tint, and the surrounding muscle was visibly spasming.

Diana's eyes sharpened. "It's not ingested poison… Zoom in on his right shoulder!"

Terry hesitated for a split second, then quickly complied.

The image enlarged. Just below the old wound was a slight bulge, and tiny blood spots were seeping through the skin's surface.

Diana spoke rapidly. "Does he have miosis, tearing, and increased bronchial secretions?"

On the other end of the radio, the doctor immediately answered. "Yes! He's already showing respiratory muscle paralysis!"

"It's an organophosphate nerve agent." Diana's words came faster. "The toxin source is hidden under the old shoulder wound. It's an implanted poison capsule—set to rupture on a timer or triggered remotely. After he was captured, the organization activated the termination protocol."

The doctor hesitated. "If we cut it open now, the agent could spread again."

"Apply pressure proximally to block circulation first." Diana glanced at the monitoring data again. "IV push of atropine. Prepare pralidoxime. When you cut, don't compress the wound. Use negative pressure suction to remove the capsule along with the surrounding necrotic tissue."

"His oxygen's still dropping!"

"Intubate first. Mechanical ventilation. Don't wait for lab results—he doesn't have time."

The doctor looked at the camera. He was clearly still weighing the decision.

Nicholas gave the order directly. "Do as she says. If anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility."

The interrogation room erupted into controlled chaos.

Atropine was pushed into the IV. The man's shoulder was cut open. A black chip the size of a fingernail emerged from deep within the old wound.

The chip had already ruptured, and the surrounding tissue showed obvious gray-black discoloration. The doctor used a suction device to clear the fluid, then extracted the chip intact.

One minute. Two minutes. The oxygen saturation on the monitor slowly climbed—from sixty-eight to seventy-five, then to eighty-three.

When the number finally crossed ninety again, the man's chest resumed its rise and fall.

David stood on the other side of the screen, genuinely impressed.

He knew Diana had attended medical school, but to diagnose the poison, locate its source, and provide a complete resuscitation protocol in seconds based on a blurry image—that was far beyond what 'attending medical school' could explain.

For a fleeting moment, he suddenly thought Nicholas was such a jerk.

Diana was clearly brilliant. Why the hell didn't he treasure her?

David picked up the radio and, for the first time, spoke to her directly. "Just now—thank you."

Diana wanted to respond, but her back was already soaked with cold sweat. The prolonged mental concentration had caused her wound to bleed again.

Her vision went black, and she collapsed toward the edge of the bed.

Nicholas rushed forward and caught her. "Diana!"

His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her entire body into his embrace.

The familiar scent closed in. Diana didn't have the strength to resist, but she said coldly, "Don't think that holding me once means you can pretend nothing ever happened."

Nicholas's arm stiffened. "I didn't think that."

"Then let go."

Of course Nicholas didn't comply.

He eased her back onto the pillow, pulled the blanket up, checked that the wound on her right arm hadn't fully reopened, then slowly withdrew his hand.

A sudden cough came from next door. The man had briefly regained consciousness.

David walked up to him. "Who activated the poison capsule inside you?"

The man's breathing was labored. Every word came out as a wheeze. "Lindsey…"

Diana had just lifted her head when she heard David press him. "What does she know?"

The man's eyelids were already drooping. "She… isn't…"

"What?"

"Lindsey… isn't that child's biological mother…"

Diana's pupils contracted sharply. In the next second, the TV screen went black. The audio from the other room cut off.

Nicholas held the remote, his expression dark as a storm. "Everyone out."

Terry hesitated. "Mr. Kennedy…"

"Out!"

David pushed through the door from the adjoining room, about to speak, when Nicholas shot him a cold look. "You too."

The door closed. Only Diana and Nicholas remained in the hospital room.

Diana looked at the blackened screen, then at the man standing beside her bed. In this moment, the suspicion in her heart finally took clear shape.

"You knew all along, didn't you?"