Chapter 282
Niamh struggled, but the harder she fought, the rougher Jonathan became.
A metallic tang filled her mouth; it took her a moment to realize Jonathan had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Jonathan, are you out of your mind?!”
She managed to shove him away, but he seized her shoulders with a bruising grip.
Pain shot through her, twisting her features in agony.
Then, as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Jonathan let go.
Niamh watched as he balled his injured, bleeding hand into a fist, letting the blood drip steadily onto the pavement.
It dawned on her–Jonathan was using pain to keep himself conscious.
Had someone… drugged him?
Niamh remembered the one time she’d been slipped an aphrodisiac. The sensation had been pure torment, leaving her too disoriented and weak to resist. Somehow, she’d gotten through it unharmed, but she still shuddered at the memory.
Now she found herself staring at Jonathan–his eyes clouded, yet stubbornly refusing to give in.
Was he still the same Jonathan she once knew? Or had something inside him changed beyond recognition?
She shook her head. This was not the time to ponder the past.
He needed her help.
But how?
“Jonathan, just hang on a little longer. I’ll get you to the hospital…”
She inched closer, speaking softly, but before she could reach him, Jonathan lunged–landing squarely on top of her.
She hit the ground with a thud, Jonathan’s weight pinning her.
“No… no hospital…” His voice was barely a whisper, brittle and dry, as if the words scraped across her ear like dead leaves on concrete.
“Come on, you have to get up…” she pleaded, struggling beneath him.
Jonathan’s lucidity flickered; his skin burned with fever. His hands, as if acting on their own, roamed across her body–his touch both desperate and familiar.
Niamh’s skin was cool, soft, pale–soothing against his feverish palms.
He felt like a volcano on the verge of eruption, every attempt at restraint only intensifying the need to let go.
He squeezed his lacerated palm again, the pain slicing through the haze and granting him a fleeting moment of clarity.
Suddenly, someone yanked him off her and landed a solid punch to his jaw.
Niamh scrambled up, eyes wide with shock.
Standing before her was Michael–she had no idea when he’d arrived.
Michael was pummeling Jonathan, who was too far gone to even defend himself.
Harborview Drive was Michael’s usual route home; he never expected to run into anyone he knew, least of all at this hour.
What caught his attention first was the deep blue Bentley parked by the curb–its vanity plate, all sevens, was impossible to miss.
He knew it was Jonathan’s car. Curiosity piqued, he’d parked his own vehicle a little ways back and approached on foot, eager to see what Jonathan was up to.
But what he found was Niamh, pinned and struggling beneath Jonathan.
He didn’t stop to think–just acted.
But as he landed blow after blow, something felt wrong. Jonathan wasn’t fighting
back.
When Michael finally backed off, Niamh rushed to Jonathan’s side, immediately checking his injuries.
Michael realized his dramatic rescue had turned into something of a farce.
Niamh propped up a dazed Jonathan, saying nothing about what had happened to Michael.
She knew Michael and Jonathan had always been at odds–rival families, rival companies, a history of animosity that ran deep. The last thing she wanted was Michael knowing Jonathan had been drugged.
As she tried to help Jonathan back to the car, Michael suddenly stepped in, pulling Jonathan out of her grasp.
14:37
спарит 400
Chapter 283
