James Ferguson
“I’ll go back with you,” Zelda said, her voice steady but strained. “Call the hospital first.”
I stopped, turned around and looked at her. After a while I went towards her and carried her down, setting her on the ground carefully.
Her expression was guarded, her pale face reflecting doubt as her gaze searched mine.
“I’ll have Cheng make the hospital arrangements,” I replied, reaching for her hand to lead her out.
Before I could take a step, she yanked her hand away, her resistance sharper than I’d expected.
“Call Cheng now,” she demanded, her tone cold and unyielding, the distrust in her eyes cutting straight through me.
Her defiance pushed me closer to the edge of my patience. My hand instinctively moved to the back of her neck, holding her steady as
