CHAPTER 882: CHAPTER 882: TAKING ADVANTAGE OF MY FEELINGS FOR YOU

"Bang——"

A gunshot rang out, blood splattered.

Ann Vaughn’s unfocused eyes were fixed on Cyrus Hawthorne’s blood-stained chest, her hand holding the gun trembled uncontrollably, as warmth trickled down her cheek.

Instinctively, she wanted to throw the gun away, but deep in her mind, a cursed voice echoed endlessly, leaving her body completely out of her control.

"Shoot at his heart again, what are you hesitating for? Kill him, just kill him!"

The nightmare-like voice pounded in Ann’s head, making her face turn as white as paper. Her eyes, filled with struggle and pain, gradually began to show a trace of clarity.

But when she clearly saw the gun in her own bloody hand and Cyrus’s chest covered in blood, the clarity in her eyes grew stronger.

The previous shot had pierced through Cyrus’s heart area; crimson blood kept flowing from the wound, a horrifying sight.

Cyrus’s breathing became heavier, his large hand pressing tightly against the wound to stop the bleeding, beads of sweat trickling down his refined brow, his handsome face pale and weak, yet his upright figure remained firm.

He barely took two steps forward, raised his hand to grasp Ann’s wrist that trembled incessantly, his touch as gentle as ever.

"Annie." His voice was hoarse, "Don’t cry."

Ann’s whole body shuddered.

"If you cry too much, I can’t help you wipe your tears." Cyrus’s lips grew paler, but his voice remained calm and composed, betraying not a hint of fear of dying.

His hands were covered in blood; he couldn’t stain her face.

Ann’s eyes struggled, her lips parted but couldn’t utter a word, she could only watch as her hands uncontrollably lifted, pointing the gun once more at Cyrus.

It was as if the soul within her was suddenly torn in half, every inch of her skin tingling with pain.

She couldn’t, she didn’t want to hurt Cyrus—

"I don’t want to!"

A string in Ann’s head snapped completely.

"Bang!!"

The piercing gunshot echoed again.

Cyrus’s dark narrow eyes suddenly contracted, his extended arm just a second too late, and Ann’s body softly collapsed in front of him.

"Annie!" Cyrus cried out sharply, ignoring the severe pain radiating from his heart, stepping forward to catch her falling body.

Ann’s right hand fell limply to the ground, blood constantly seeping from the hole in her palm, staining her white dress red.

The powerlessness of her body being manipulated ebbed away like a tide, and Ann fully regained consciousness, yet her eyes were hollow as if beyond repair. Instinctively, she clenched Cyrus’s collar, her voice choked with sobs.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry..."

She didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t control herself; only if her hand was rendered useless, she wouldn’t go to harm him, couldn’t harm him.

But every time she saw the bloodstain on Cyrus’s chest, Ann couldn’t deceive herself.

After all, she had hurt him—

Cyrus’s Adam’s apple bobbed, dropping tender kisses on her forehead, gently comforting her, "You haven’t hurt me, it’s just the wound that looks terrible. Be good, don’t cry anymore, the more you cry, the more it hurts for me."

He had experienced countless battles, been at the brink of life and death, yet only she could make him helpless.

But Cyrus’s voice grew weaker, then faded away by Ann’s ear.

Feeling a weight on her shoulder, Ann frantically lifted her head, only to see Cyrus had fainted!

"Quinn, Quinn!" Ann forced back the flood of tears, ignoring the piercing pain in her right hand, drawing out a silver needle to staunch Cyrus’s bleeding with difficulty.

"Family Head!"

Just at this moment, the Hidden Guards who infiltrated The Royal City to survey the routes arrived hastily.

Seeing Cyrus covered in blood and the gun dropped to the side, the guards’ eyes instantly turned dangerous towards Ann.

Sept indeed stepped forward, supporting Cyrus.

Though reluctant, he still instructed the guards nearby, "Help Young Madam up, Vance’s people are on their way here, we must leave this place quickly."

With Cyrus’s skills, even without guards by his side, he could still leave safely after taking Ann away.

But they prepared against everyone, except they forgot to guard against Ann...

Clutching her injured right hand, Ann stood up and shook her head at them, "Take Quinn away, I’ll stay behind to cover you. They won’t dare do anything to me."

On the contrary, if she left with them, on Gothasen’s land, Vance definitely wouldn’t let them go.

But Cyrus’s injury couldn’t afford any delay.

She had no choice.

"Young Madam, this..." Hearing Ann’s words, the suspicion in Sept’s eyes lessened a bit.

"There’s no time for you to hesitate, Quinn is seriously injured, you must leave here quickly to take him to the hospital."

"What about you?"

"I won’t be in any danger. If you still regard me as Young Madam, then take Quinn and go quickly."

Ann’s eyes were as calm as a dead pool, the tear stains on her cheeks already dried by the night wind, bringing a dense stab of pain.

The guards couldn’t resist her insistence, and had to leave quickly, their shadows soon disappearing into the night.

Ann stood on the terrace, blood continuously flowing from her right fingertip, then dripping onto the ground.

It wasn’t until a series of hurried footsteps came from behind that she turned around.

Sure enough, she saw Warren Vance with an unpleasant expression on his face.

Ann smirked, her long hair draped behind her blown into disarray by the night wind, clearly clad in a white dress, but an aura of a fallen angel lingered around her.

She raised the gun hidden behind her without hesitation, aiming at Vance’s heart.

"Your Highness, be careful!" cried out Quinn Bishop and Ryan Wyatt simultaneously from behind.

"You know this won’t work on me." Vance didn’t dodge or withdraw, showing no change in expression, just quietly looking at Ann.

"Is that so?" Ann slowly turned her wrist, pointing the gun at her own temple.

Sure enough, Vance’s face darkened, his eyes betraying an undetectable hint of tension even he hadn’t noticed.

"I can’t kill you, but I can decide my own fate." Ann’s voice was icy, "Let them leave Gothasen or I die, Vance, you can only choose one."

Vance’s expression grew colder, a touch of irritation rising within his dark red eyes.

The two faced off in silence.

Vance said nothing, and Ann’s gun didn’t shift an inch.

Ryan Wyatt originally intended to use the Puppetry Technique to make Ann put down the gun, only to find it no longer worked on her!

How could this be?!

After a long while, Vance spoke lowly, "Ann Vaughn, you’re merely taking advantage of the fact that I can’t bear to lose you."

Even if all she did was for another man.