Left for Dead Came Back for Everything novel Chapter 164

"Thank you, Vivian."

"Don't thank me." Vivian helped roll Eliza's pant leg down and patted her shoulder.

"If you're going to thank anyone, thank the guy who's currently pacing a hole in his study floor, checking his phone every two minutes."

A warm flush crept up Eliza's neck.

...

By the time they emerged from the back courtyard, the sky was already beginning to darken.

The early autumn evening fell quickly. The sun hadn't fully set, but a shallow layer of twilight had already draped over the estate.

Eliza wasn't in a rush to leave.

Vivian told her the master needed half an hour to prepare the herbal prescription and suggested she take a stroll around the grounds.

She slowly made her way down the winding corridor back toward the front courtyard.

The scent of the ancient elm trees was thick and intoxicating, rolling over her in waves like sliced fragments of wind clinging to her skin.

She stopped near a stone bench beside an intricate rockery.

Her left knee had started throbbing with a dull ache again.

It wasn't a sharp, piercing agony, but a heavy, blunt soreness, the kind that flared up right before a rainstorm.

She bent over, pressing her fingers against the outer edge of her knee, habitually rubbing it.

During the specialist's examination, he had hit a few points that hurt intensely. She had gritted her teeth and stayed silent, but now that she had walked a short distance, the delayed pain was catching up to her.

She gave in and sat down on the stone bench, covering her knee with both hands and massaging it gently.

The wind caught the loose strands of hair around her face, lifting them and letting them fall.

In the twilight, her profile looked incredibly serene, yet a trace of lingering exhaustion clung to her features.

Behind the rockery.

Logan was crouched behind a massive boulder.

He had run out to the garden to sulk. He was still fuming over the utter humiliation of his uncle snatching those ribs away right in front of that woman at lunch. Refusing to go back inside, he had hidden behind the rocks, angrily kicking at pebbles.

But as he kicked, he heard footsteps approaching.

Uneven footsteps.

It wasn't glaringly obvious, but his hearing was sharp. He could tell—the sound of her left foot hitting the ground was different from the right. The left was light, the right was heavy.

He peeked out from a crack between the stones.

It was her.

That woman.

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