Chapter 92

"Get out, all of you!" Mayor George Clark roared, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at the villagers crowding the room. "My daughter needs medical attention—no one stays!"

Paul Jackson and a few other strong young men immediately began ushering people out, shoving them toward the door. When someone tried to argue, Paul silenced them with a single sharp look.

Andrew Smith gave a subtle signal to his soldiers, and two of them seized the shady clinic doctor, dragging him toward the exit.

"You can't do this!" the doctor struggled desperately. "If she dies here, I won't take the blame!"

George lunged forward and slapped him hard, sending the man stumbling. "If anything happens to my daughter, I'll end you!"

"Uncle!" Andrew grabbed the enraged man by the arm. "Saving her comes first!"

The room fell silent. Luna White was already kneeling beside Lily Clark, fingers pressed to her wrist, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Everyone out!" she snapped without looking up.

Outside in the yard, George crouched on the ground, his head in his hands. Paul tried to peer through the window, but Andrew shot him a warning glance.

"Boil water and prepare ginger tea with brown sugar," Andrew ordered a woman cowering in the corner. "And find clean blankets."

The woman hesitated, glancing at her husband—the doctor—for permission. Before the man could speak, George kicked him. "Move!"

The house was eerily quiet. The villagers of Shilipu exchanged uneasy glances, and someone muttered, "If this turns into a death..."

"Shut it!" Paul snarled. "Dr. White knows what she's doing!"

Suddenly, Luna's weak voice called from inside. "Uncle George... bring the blankets..."

George rushed in, Andrew close behind. They found Luna trembling violently, her lips tinged blue, yet she still clutched Lily's wrist.

"She's... stable..." she managed through chattering teeth.

Andrew swiftly handed her the ginger tea, supporting her as she drank. Then he turned to George. "Uncle, let’s get Lily to the truck."

Without hesitation, he scooped Luna up, blankets and all. The chill of her body sent a pang through his chest.

"Don't talk. We're going home," he murmured against her ear.

The truck sped down the country road. Andrew held Luna tightly, rubbing warmth back into her icy hands.

"Still cold?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft.

She shook her head, nestling deeper into his embrace. From the driver's seat, Jack Peterson caught the scene in the rearview mirror and nearly laughed.

Since when had their strict, no-nonsense instructor ever been this gentle?