Chapter 20
The right was dor for a drenching, the cloud creeping in to smother the last chill efiremness of moonlight. In the gloom, the Shiny Estate foomed like a solitary atoll, wrapping Elizabeth with no escape in sight.
A silen frost descended, sealing the ground and the desiccated foliage in a cold grip. Joanna had been there for hours, and the gum in Joanna’s mouth lost its favor. Just as she was about to turn around, she laid eyes on Elizabeth’s struggling figure.
Pulse racing, Joanna sprinted over, catching Elizabeth just in time, and wrapped her in her own coat. Her touch revealed a forehead slick with cold sweat.
My goodness. What on earth happened to you?” Joanna exclaimed.
Joanna gently supported Elizabeth towards the car, only realizing how bad her condition was when getting a closer look. “What kind of place is this place? Why does someone go in fine but come out like this?” she complained.
Elizabeth’s consciousness was a fog, dimly aware of Joanna’s voice but unable to form a
response.
In a final, desperate act, she clung to Joanna’s shirttail, the cheap cotton abrasive against her fingers. “Get me out of here,” she whispered urgently before her world went dark.
At that instant, a man’s voice, deep and chilling, cut through the night. “Stop.”
Holding Elizabeth, Joanna couldn’t even turn around. Before she could react, Franklin abruptly took Elizabeth away from her arms, along with the coat that enveloped Elizabeth.
Tall, slender, with broad shoulders and long arms, Franklin was the picture of a well- built man. Elizabeth, fragile and lifeless, lay unaware in his arms.
“Who said you could take her?” Franklin questioned.
Feeling somewhat worn out, Joanna squinted her eyes. Then she spoke in a flippant manner, “You must be Franklin, right?”
Without checking Joanna’s dressing, Franklin didn’t feel like continuing the conversation with her. “She’s not feeling well, so I’m taking her back.”
“Oh, so you know she’s not feeling well?” Joanna was seething with anger. She gripped Elizabeth’s hand tightly, trying to separate her from Franklin. Unable to hold back her anger, she cursed, “She was perfectly fine before entering your place. Now look at her!
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She was ice cold in my arins. You want to kill her? You jerk.”
Her chest rose and fell with intense emotion. She wanted nothing more than to smack this phony man in the face.
Franklin took in her tirade without a flinch, his hand encircling Elizabeth’s wrist, his touch bone–chillingly cold. “Have you finished?”
Joanna seethed but fell silent.
I’ll take her back once you’re done talking,” Franklin said.
Joanna wasn’t about to surrender, stepping forward to reclaim Elizabeth. But Franklin, unwilling to entertain further madness, signaled Jerry, who had been lurking in the shadows.
Jerry nodded and swiftly moved to grab Joanna.
Her protests continued, but Franklin paid them no heed. He cocooned Elizabeth’s face with his coat, lifting her with an ease that revealed her alarming lightness. The coarse fabric did little to mask the sharpness of her skeletal frame beneath.
Afraid of hurting her, he dared not exert too much force.
As they entered the estate, a soft moan escaped Elizabeth, her fingers finding purchase on Franklin’s collar. He bent with her tug, his eyes meeting her delicate, sweat–beaded face, her features a compact map of vulnerability.
Seeing her captivating face, he swallowed hard, trying to pry her hand away, but she snuggled against his chest and said in a muffled voice, “Take me home…”
Brushing aside the damp strands on her forehead, Franklin said with a subtle tenderness in his voice, “Alright.”
In the following moment, echoing her previous request, she whispered, “Wendell, take me home.”
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