Chapter 545

Hannah crept closer to the bed, her gaze fixed on Brixton's seemingly defenseless figure. With each step, her grip on the knife tightened, as if she were holding both her courage and her fear in the same hand.

At last, she summoned her resolve and swung the blade, aiming not at flesh but at the hem of his cleaner shirt, intending to slice off a strip.

Almost at once, a hand shot out like lightning, clamping her wrist with such force that it seemed her bones might splinter.

Brixton-supposedly unconscious-snapped his eyes open,sharp and unyielding. "What do you think you're doing?"

The sudden movement jolted Hannah, pain flashing up her wrist like fire racing along a fuse.

She steadied herself, voice calm though her heart pounded."Your wound's still bleeding. I thought I'd tear some fabric from your shirt to use as a bandage."

She held up the strip she'd managed to cut, proof of her intent.

Brixton's eyes stayed guarded, suspicion lingering like a shadow."That's it?"

"What else would it be?" Hannah retorted, her tone crisp.

Yet, something gnawed at her. She replayed the scene in her mind-the knife left carelessly within reach, his overt suspicion -and then the truth struck like a bell.

Her lips curved into a mocking smile. "So this was a trap? You planted the knife there just to see if I'd try to finish you while

planted the knife there just to see if I'd try to finish you while you were down?"

Brixton didn't waste words denying it. He released her wrist,though his gaze lingered on her, tinged now with quiet amusement. "Quick mind. Not bad."

Hannah rubbed her reddened wrist, a bitter laugh escaping."If I wanted you dead, don't you think I'd have done it already?Back at the fortress, in the middle of that gunfight-I could've put a bullet in your back instead of helping you drop Dewitt.I saved your life!"

Brixton scoffed, brushing off her claim like dust. "Don't flatter yourself.I would've managed without you."

"But you can't deny I was the one who shot Dewitt, giving you the opening to finish him!" Hannah fired back, her glare sharp as daggers.

For a moment, Brixton stayed silent. And silence, in its way,was as close to admission as words could be.

Done with the argument, Hannah flung the knife to the floor with a metallic thud and started toward the door.

But at the threshold, she halted. Her eyes flicked back to the blood seeping steadily from Brixton's stomach. With a weary sigh, she turned back. "What, are you planning to just bleed out?" she mocked.

Brixton arched a brow at her return, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "And what remedy do you propose?"

Hannah bent down, retrieved the knife, and snapped,"Tear up your clothes and use them as bandages!"

Brixton frowned. "Why ruin my clothes when there's gauze right there?"

He tilted his head toward a half-open medical kit in the corner.

Hannah followed his gaze and spotted the neat roll of clean gauze. Her hands froze, fury flaring hot as she realized he had been playing with her all along.

With a sharp clatter, she drove the knife into the floorboards and hissed through clenched teeth, "You could've said that earlier!"

Brixton looked positively entertained. Lounging back against the pillow, he drawled in a way that made her want to strangle him,"You didn't ask."

Hannah inhaled deeply, reminding herself that losing her temper with this man was like pouring oil on a fire. Without another word, she snatched the gauze and began to bandage his wound in brisk silence.

Her movements were efficient, almost clinical, careful to avoid unnecessary touch.

But when she had to wrap the gauze around his back,she had no choice but to lean close.

Her breath skimmed the side of his neck, feather-light.

Brixton stiffened at once, as though unaccustomed to any woman drawing so near. Abruptly,he shoved Hannah away,his movements harsh and abrupt. "That's enough! I'll finish it myself."

Hannah stepped back without protest, grateful for the space between them. She crossed to the table, sank into a chair, and turned her back on him.

Relief washed over her, though it carried with it the weight of exhaustion and blood loss. She meant only toclose her eyes for a moment, but her lids grew heavy, and soon her breathing evened out. In that dim cabin, without knowing, she slipped into sleep.

When Brixton finished tying the bandage, he lifted his head and saw her slumped over, fast asleep. Her careless, unguarded slumber stirred something uneasy in him. No woman had ever dared to sleep so peacefully in his presence-not after betrayal, not after blood.

His expression darkened, and he called for Scorpio.