Page 15 of Possessive Billionaire's Twisted Hunt

"Christian!" Ivy’s voice rang through the alley.

His hand froze mid-air.

His gaze snapped to her.

And in that split second of distraction—she saw something other than fury in his eyes—concern.

The brick slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground with a dull thud. But the momentary distraction cost him.

BAM!

The second man struck him from behind. The wooden stick cracked against Christian’s head.

The impact sent him staggering to the side, blood trickling down his face almost instantly.

"Christian!" Ivy’s shrill scream pierced the air. She rushed toward him, but before she could reach, Christian gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse yet firm.

"Stay there. Don’t come closer!"

Blood dripped into his eye, his vision blurring.

The second attacker tried to hit him again.

Christian caught his wrist, twisted it with bone-snapping force. With a sharp inhale, he grabbed the stick from the man’s hands, landing a brutal punch to his face before delivering a final, devastating blow with the stick.

The man collapsed, unconscious.

Ivy reached Christian just as he swayed, grabbing his arms, her fingers trembling as she looked up at his face.

"You’re hurt," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Oh God, you’re bleeding—"

Christian’s bloody hand lifted, brushing her cheek gently, his voice soft despite his injuries. "Don’t… worry," he murmured.

But the moment the words left his lips, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp.

"Christian?" Her voice broke as she sank to the ground with him. His weight was too much, and she fell onto her knees, his face pressing into her neck, his blood warm against her skin.

Tears streamed down her face as she held him tightly.

A shrill ringtone shattered the silence. Ivy’s hands trembled as she reached into his suit pocket, pulling out his phone. Samuel’s name flashed on the screen.

Wasn’t this Christian’s secretary?

She answered immediately. "Hello?"

"Hello? Hi, sorry—who is this? Can you hand the phone to Mr. Evans?"

"Samuel? It’s Ivy. Christian’s hurt very badly. Where are you?" Her voice trembled.

"Ms. Watson?" Samuel’s voice sharpened with concern. "I’m at your hotel. Send me your location. I’ll be there immediately."

Ivy quickly navigated through Christian’s phone and sent their location through WhatsApp.

Her fingers moved swiftly, sending their location via WhatsApp. Within minutes, Samuel arrived, and Christian was rushed to the hospital. The police took the attackers away.

Three hours later, Ivy sat outside the operating room, her hands tightly clenched together. The white walls of the hospital felt cold and suffocating.

"Please be okay," she whispered, voice barely audible.

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