Chapter 132 Nathaniel Wanted Her Dead.

Celeste was injured. Her shoulder had been grazed by shrapnel, leaving a raw, jagged wound that tore away a chunk of flesh. Already weakened by the wound on her arm from Vivian's earlier attack, this new injury made it impossible for her to lift her left arm at all. She gritted her teeth and kept driving, forcing herself to stay focused until she reached the safe house nearby. The room was cloaked in darkness. She flicked on the dim light in the bedroom, shut the windows tight, and finally allowed herself a moment to breathe. From the first-aid kit, she pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Biting down on a piece of gauze, she braced herself—and poured the antiseptic directly onto the wound. "Agh—!" The pain hit like a white-hot dagger, stabbing deep into her nerves. But pain like this wasn't new to Celeste. For years, she had danced on the edge of life and death, surviving one deadly trial after another. She had been through worse—much worse. This pain she could endure.