CHAPTER 40: CHAPTER 40: JULIAN FAIRCHILD, CAN YOU CARRY ME ON YOUR BACK?

Seeing Julian Fairchild starting to overtake, Maeve Lane refused to fall behind. As her competitive spirit was ignited, she felt her blood boiling.

However, just as she exerted herself, the stone beneath her foot suddenly began to wobble!

Julian Fairchild noticed, "Don’t move!"

The staff below were constantly monitoring their situation, and seeing the stone under Maeve’s feet loosen, they quickly called for a few people to place an inflatable mat behind her.

Even though the straps had been checked, it was better to be safe.

Maeve also felt it, but there was no fear in her eyes; instead, there was a subtle excitement.

She loved thrilling things, that feeling of being on the brink of a narrow escape from death!

Julian saw that Maeve still intended to step on the stone and furrowed his brows tightly. Swiftly, he grabbed Maeve’s slender arm from the side, his voice exceedingly cold, "Do you have a death wish?"

The arm he held was delicate and fair, seemingly frail, yet when she exerted force, Julian found it surprisingly hard to control her.

"Just a small matter, don’t panic," Maeve said with a half-smile, "Julian Fairchild, you’re about to lose."

As soon as she spoke, she suddenly yanked her body back. Julian was startled and tried to hold her, but Maeve used his momentum to leap up directly!

When she steadied her foot, the stone immediately fell from above and landed in the basket prepared by the staff!

Julian climbed up from below with a dark face, "Is winning and losing that important?"

Hearing this, Maeve calmed her breathing and replied clearly, "Since I can win, why should I let myself lose?"

The man exuded a dangerous aura, "So you’re willing to go to such lengths for a mere game?"

"Isn’t the point of playing games to win?" Maeve raised an eyebrow, secretly thinking that the things she used to play with were much more dangerous than this.

After she spoke, she sensed Julian’s face becoming even darker, like a storm was brewing.

Maeve stood up, tugged at the corner of his shirt, and suspiciously asked, "Are you worried about me?"

Julian responded with actions, mercilessly brushing her hand away and turning to leave, his voice extremely cold, "If this happens again, don’t expect to come out with me anymore; I don’t want to be the one to collect your body."

Hearing this, Maeve replied with an "Oh," and when she tried to leave, a sudden sharp pain shot through her leg.

She crouched down, rolled up her pant leg, and found that her knee had been injured at some point, now oozing blood.

"Julian Fairchild, I’ve hurt my leg, can you carry me?"

Maeve’s voice came from behind. Julian’s steps didn’t stop, and his voice still carried lingering anger, "Now you feel the pain?"

Maeve didn’t even know what he was angry about. Was it because she won and he was unhappy?

She secured her pants, winced, and endured the pain, "Next time, how about I let you win?"

Julian slowed his pace. Maeve wasn’t a delicate girl; if it was a typical injury, she definitely wouldn’t cry out in pain.

Just as he was about to turn around, a voice came from afar—

"Maeve!"

Maeve shifted her gaze to look in front of Julian. Henry Hughes appeared at the end of the road, standing tall and dignified. He was smiling at first, but upon seeing Maeve’s leg injury, his smile gradually faded, and his steps quickened considerably.

He didn’t even have time to greet Julian.

Henry looked gravely concerned, "What happened here?"

This was addressed to Maeve. Just as Maeve was about to answer, she was already being scooped up by him.