Chapter 25
In the alley.
The thief was cornered and had nowhere to run. The man behind him pursued him relentlessly. He stopped and took out a dagger from his pocket, as he glared at the man and said, "If you don't want to die, leave!"
The man crossed his arms in front of his chest and said calmly, "What if I don't want to leave?"
The thief sneered, "Then die!"
With that, he lunged forward with his sharp dagger and aimed at the officious man.
The man flickered swiftly, easily avoiding the cold dagger. The man was donning a carefree expression as if he was not in the matter of life and death. He smiled languidly and said, "How can you be a thief with such a limited ability?"
The thief was enraged by the merciless satire. He cursed rudely and then turned back to stab the man again. The man sneered and said, "You're digging your own grave!"
He lifted his foot and kicked the thief heavily on his belly. He stumbled to the ground, groaning in pain.
With a faint smile on his face and a chill in his eyes, the man lifted his trousers, squatted down in front of the thief, and took the bag in his hand. "You're lucky that I don't have time to play with you."
Cold sweat oozed from the thief's back.
"Hey..." Sharon's voice suddenly sounded, "Did you catch that damn thief?"
The man looked back. In a blink of an eye, the thief who was lying motionlessly on the ground suddenly struck forward. A faint puffing sound could be heard as the dagger pierced into the man's flesh. The man's eyes burst with anger. The blood- thirsty anger shrouded him in a haze, making him look like the most horrifying Grim Reaper.
An extremely cold glare was shot toward the thief that he suddenly shuddered as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
Sharon rushed over and was shocked as she stumbled upon the scene. She stood as still as a frozen statue as the bright color of blood spread in front of her eyes.
Blood.
Blood was all over the place.
The rustic smell of fresh blood could drive one crazy. Sharon's mind was suddenly filled with the scene of her father's car accident. She rushed to the scene and saw her father lying in a pool of blood that painted his shirt red. No matter how she cried, her father did not respond at all.
Sharon's tears suddenly fell down her cheeks. "You're bleeding!"
The man turned around and was stunned when he saw her tears.
Sharon trembled as she stretched out her hand to press on the man's wound. Her tears flowed down her cheeks like beads with broken strings. "There's so much blood. It must be very painful. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
The man came to his senses and curled his lips into a smile. "I'm fine. It's just a minor injury. I won't die. By the way, here's your bag." Sharon glared at him and said, "Shush! You're bleeding. Let's go to the hospital now!"
Blood drained from her face. She was as pale as snow as if she was the one who was injured. Her eyes were burning with anxiety, and she was deeply regretful.
The man raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight, and there was a hint of intrigue in his enchanting eyes. He watched her pressing his stab wound with her hand. Although she trembled because of fear, she did not let go.
There was a smile in his eyes, feeling that this trip was not in vain. He didn't say anything and let her force him into a taxi and quickly rushed to the hospital.
At the emergency department.
Sitting on the bench, Sharon looked intensely at the tightly closed operating room door. Half an hour later, the door opened and the man walked out, his arm wrapped in gauze. He raised his hand to her and said, "I'm still alive."
Sharon breathed a sigh of relief.
Sharon kept note of the doctor's instructions attentively. The man stood by her side and looked at her with his head tilted. He didn't speak; the deep gaze was fixated on her serious expression.