The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 141

Lucas Lane lay in the snow, blood seeping from the bullet hole in his chest.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

He moved.

Pushing against the snowy ground, he slowly sat up. And then—he stood.

"This... this is impossible..." Diego Solano's hands were shaking so violently he almost dropped the gun.

Lucas didn't look at him. He simply glanced down at the wound on his chest, then lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. There was no pain or anger in his eyes, only a strange, chilling calmness that made their blood run cold.

Then he turned around.

Stumbling, step by agonizing step, he walked toward Lilah Lane.

Lilah lay in the snow, her face an ashen gray and her lips a deep purple, entirely motionless. A thin layer of snow had settled on her face, draping over her like a sheer white veil.

Lucas dropped to his knees.

Reaching out, he gently pulled her into his arms.

"I'm here," he said softly, his voice nothing like the bloodthirsty killer from moments ago.

He brushed the snow from her face, his movements painstakingly slow and tender, as if caring for a sleeping child.

"I'm sorry, I was too late."

He rested her head against his shoulder, pressing his cheek to her freezing forehead.

"Why are you so cold..." His voice began to tremble. "I'll warm you up, and then you won't be cold anymore..."

He stripped off his own jacket and wrapped it tightly around her.

Josh Jace slowly stood up, watching the scene unfold without saying a word.

The professor stood up as well, covering his face with one hand while discreetly gesturing for Diego to step back.

"Sigh." Holding Lilah, Lucas suddenly let out a breath, as if casually chatting with his sister. "Why were you so foolish? Didn't we agree to move together? Why were you in such a rush..."

He paused.

"But..." His voice dropped so low it was almost a whisper. "I promised you, and I never break my promises."

He lifted his head, locking eyes with everyone present. Real emotion finally bled into his gaze—not anger, not hatred, but a bone-chilling, absolute tenderness.

"I am going to make every single one of you accompany her to the grave."

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