Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

“There’s only one sniper left, and I’m out of options. I’ve used everything I could think of.” Joyce leaned against a large rock, casting a cold glance at Clint. “But I don’t think you’ll die. They say, a scourge lasts a thousand years.”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Clint remained silent.

“I need to rest.” Joyce leaned back, stretching her legs to find a comfortable position.

The sunlight brought a slight warmth, and for the first time, Joyce had the energy to take care of herself. She glanced down and realized that during the night it wasn’t noticeable, but now she was practically in tatters. Her long pants had been torn by the bushes, exposing her fair skin. She had discarded her jacket earlier, and her inner clothes were also ripped. The amount of fabric left on her was minimal.

In contrast, Clint looked much more presentable.

Joyce cursed inwardly. Damn it, this man hadn’t done much but still managed to keep his elegance. What a joke.

Noticing Clint’s gaze on her, she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself.

Feeling uncomfortable, she snapped, “Don’t look at me. Turn your face away.”

Clint averted his gaze; he had no intention of taking advantage of her. She was just too captivating to ignore.

He silently took off his jacket to give it to her. Although it was also torn and stained with blood on the sleeves, it was better than what she had.

Before he could hand it over, Joyce stopped him. “I don’t want your clothes. Don’t make any noise.”

She thought to herself that they only needed to wait for rescue now. If… she didn’t want Luther to see her wearing another man’s clothes when he arrived. It wasn’t about misunderstandings; she simply didn’t want it.

Not even a piece of clothing should tie her to another man.

Clint’s fingers stiffened; he could sense her meaning.

She despised him; she avoided him; she wanted nothing to do with him-not even a piece of clothing.

His eyes dimmed, and Clint didn’t insist further. He put his jacket back on. He had been shot last night; although the bleeding had stopped, he had lost too much blood. The sunlight on his pale face made him dizzy.

He struggled to stay conscious.

After a while, Joyce suddenly opened her eyes.

“The sound of a drone.” Her voice was excited. If it was Luther’s drone hovering nearby, it meant they were about to be found.

Soon enough, the sniper’s position would also be detected.

Clint heard it too and looked up at the sky.

The drone had found them; the helicopter couldn’t be far behind.

He retrieved the satellite communicator he had discarded earlier.

It had been out of signal range before but now started making static noises.

Joyce glanced at the satellite communicator in Clint’s hand. “Is the signal back?”

Before Clint could answer, a voice came through the communicator.

“Your Highness, Crown Prince.”

It was Watanabe’s voice.

“I’m here,” Clint replied.

“Your Highness, Blackhawk III will arrive in five minutes. We will conduct suppressive fire on the forest behind you. Please protect yourself,” Watanabe said through the communicator.

“Understood,” Clint responded and glanced at Joyce.

His people were finally arriving for rescue.

Joyce looked towards the horizon and saw a dark shadow approaching rapidly. The sound of rotors soon drowned out everything else.

Clint’s satellite communicator continued to buzz with updates.

“Blackhawk III arriving in three minutes.”

“Blackhawk III arriving in one minute.”

“Blackhawk III arriving in ten seconds.”

As the massive shadow passed over Joyce and Clint’s heads, Joyce knew they were about to open fire on the ground. The drone must have roughly located the sniper’s position nearby. The sniper must have moved closer to them as well.

Without support, they would have been in serious trouble; she was already exhausted and might not have been able to handle it alone.

Joyce sighed in relief. No matter what, they were saved now.

However, aerial suppression and machine gun fire meant flying bullets and shattering rocks could easily injure those on the ground who were exposed without cover. The rock they were using for shelter could become an obstacle; if it shattered, sharp fragments could cut into their skin like knives.

Joyce braced herself for injury; compared to life itself, these were minor wounds.

She told Clint, “Get down and cover your head with your hands.”

First and foremost, they needed to protect their eyes and heads.

At that moment, a warning came through the satellite communicator:

“Prepare to fire in three, two, one-fire.”

Joyce quickly lay down, covering her head with her hands and closing her eyes tightly against the ground.

She didn’t have time to worry if Clint did the same; he should know this basic survival tactic.

Suddenly, she felt a weight on her back as Clint covered her with his body.

She felt his chest against the back of her head and his shoulders covering her arms and hands like wings shielding her completely.

She didn’t have time to think deeply about it because the deafening sound of machine gun fire and rotor blades drowned out everything else. The wind from the rotors whipped around her ears painfully vibrating her eardrums.

The scent of blood from his body dissipated quickly in the fierce wind as debris flew everywhere around them.

For a moment, Joyce was stunned-Clint was protecting her with his body? Why? Even if injured, it would only be minor cuts or embedded fragments that could be removed later without life-threatening danger.

She felt him tighten his grip occasionally; he must have been hit by debris causing him pain which made him involuntarily clench tighter around her body preventing any movement from escaping under him while enduring intense discomfort himself during those few minutes until finally hearing Watanabe’s voice again through Clint’s satellite communicator:

“Target eliminated! Target eliminated!”

Hearing this news brought immense relief flooding through every fiber within Joyce’s being leaving no strength left as all tension drained away collapsing onto ground completely exhausted beyond measure having held out till now despite being utterly spent knowing last sniper was dead ensuring safety once more.