Jackson was also annoyed, saying, “Seraphina, it’s one thing to follow us around and cause trouble, but now you’re throwing a tantrum here? My patience is limited. Laila needs rest, and your presence will only affect her mood. Leave now and scram home!”
He grabbed my hand, trying to forcibly pull me away from the scene.
But the next second, aftershocks began. Jackson immediately let go of my hand and rushed to Laila’s side with my father.
As I stumbled and fell to the ground, the silver blade in Jackson’s hand slipped from his grasp.
“Laila, duck!” he shouted, using his weapon to deflect the falling rocks that were tumbling toward Laila.
In my weakened state, my movements were momentarily delayed, and the sharp pain of the blade cutting through my flesh exploded across my back.
As I lay curled up in a pool of blood, I saw the blade lodged in a crack in the rock. The handle was engraved with my name.
I suddenly remembered that this blade was one I had made for him myself.
Then, I completely lost consciousness amid the excruciating pain.
…
When I awoke again, I was lying in the healer’s clinic, and there was no one by my bedside.
The healer, seeing that I had awakened, said with concern, “Your wound isn’t healing. If we forcefully administer medication, the pup might not survive.”
I calmly gazed at the ceiling and spoke softly. “I don’t need to keep the pup. Please help me with an abortion.”
