Chapter 166

The following afternoon, Nathan Blackwood finally stirred from his deep slumber.

That night, the same haunting dream had tormented him repeatedly.

In his dream, Nathan was deployed on a perilous mission in the war-torn lands of Eldermere. He and fifty fellow soldiers infiltrated the enemy stronghold, eliminating the terrorists and successfully freeing ten hostages.

The enemy was no ordinary foe—they were child soldiers, trained to kill since the age of five, armed with heavy artillery and ruthless instincts.

The desert sands were soaked crimson, transforming the battlefield into a living nightmare.

Nathan hadn’t been assigned to the mission initially. But he volunteered—joining what was known as the Suicide Squad.

"Young man, are you married?"

"No."

"No wife, no children. Why would you take this mission? The rest of us have families—someone to carry on if we fall."

Nathan had only smiled faintly in response. Death didn’t frighten him.

"I have no one depending on me. I have nothing to lose."

At that time, the two most important women in his life had abandoned him, one after another. His heart had turned to stone. Death meant nothing compared to the agony of solitude.

In the end, they fought like demons. Less than ten survived.

Nathan took bullets to his legs, shoulders, and waist. Just as he accepted his fate, a woman in a tattered white coat appeared—like an angel descending through the smoke and blood.

Her mask was thick, her short hair matted with dust. She looked like a battle-worn saint.

But her eyes—sharp, luminous—burned brighter than the sun.

She was his savior. The little dove he had spent years searching for.

Now, after meeting Evelyn Carter, the dream had returned.

Two entirely different women—yet, in Evelyn’s gaze, Nathan swore he saw the same light.

How was that possible?

Rubbing his temples, he realized his headache had vanished.

Agnes Thornton entered, carrying a medical kit.

"Master Nathan, you're awake!" she exclaimed, relief washing over her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

Nathan sat up with her assistance—then froze.

He was in pajamas.

"When did I change?"

"You don’t remember? You came back last night soaked to the bone. I had to change you myself."

Agnes clucked her tongue as she straightened the room. "Thirty years old and still acting like a reckless boy. What you need is a wife."

Nathan grimaced, dragging a hand through his hair.

The last thing he recalled was the blinding pain in his head. He’d gone to his study for medicine—then nothing.

"Agnes, you undressed me?"

"Who else would?"

Nathan groaned. "I’m thirty, not thirteen. Can you stop stripping me like a child?"

"Oh, please," Agnes scoffed. "As if I’d take advantage. I’ve seen your bare backside since you were in diapers."

Nathan had no retort.

"And whose fault is it that you kicked Young Madam out? Now you’ve got no one to fuss over you. When I’m gone, who’ll care if you sleep in wet clothes or run around naked?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Now, take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?" Nathan recoiled.

"The wound on your back needs tending! This ointment must be applied daily. Hurry up!" Agnes brandished the medicine Evelyn had left behind.

Nathan’s gaze sharpened. "How did you know about my injury?"

"Well—"