Chapter 1715: Chapter 1715 Don’t Sleep! I Won’t Let You Sleep!
Her smile further reddened Sylvan Cheney’s eyes.
At this mont, Sylvan Cheney was like an enraged lion, with a surge of anger in his chest, as overwhelming as a mighty river.
Jasmine Yale kept looking at him, noticing that his shirt collar was askew, and he was still wearing the clothes from when he left this morning.
In the flickering, hazy lights, he was just as handso and pleasing to the eye.
She just wanted to look at him a little longer…
Jasmine Yale extended her right hand, the one she could still lift.
She reached out to him.
In an instant, Sylvan Cheney’s heart shattered into pieces.
He wanted to rush over, to hold her in his arms, to tell her it was all right, just a nightmare.
Seeing Jasmine Yale covered in blood, even on her forehead, and the blood still flowing from her shoulder blade, the emotions of collapse, despair, and anger burst forth in his heart, and with a “twang,” the string in his heart snapped!
Sylvan Cheney raised his handgun.
Spencer Childe’s bodyguards imdiately protected him from behind.
“Bang,” a bullet flew!
“Ah!” Spencer Childe dodged, but Lana Fern didn’t; the bullet hit her abdon.
Lana Fern, having never experienced such pain, shrieked and held tightly to a bodyguard’s arm: “Help , help …”
Sylvan Cheney knew that Lana Fern must be involved in all this.
He raised his hand and fired again.
This ti, the bullet hit Lana Fern’s left leg!
Lana Fern couldn’t hold on, “thud” she kneeled on the deck, face pale, bleeding profusely.
“I don’t hit won, but that doesn’t an I won’t kill them. I’ve said, Jasmine Yale is my bottom line.” Sylvan Cheney’s voice slowly ca, deep like a ghost’s murmur, suffused with endless hoarseness and killing intent.
Jasmine Yale looked at Sylvan Cheney, a smile on the corner of her mouth.
He was protecting her, just as she protected him.
Perhaps in this life, her greatest talent was her choice of a man who would be good to her for life.
The river breeze fluttered Sylvan Cheney’s black coat, his eyes never leaving Jasmine Yale’s face.
“Grandfather, help, save … I don’t want to die… it hurts…” Lana Fern clutched her abdon.
The blood gushed out, staining the deck red.
If this continued, she wouldn’t survive, she didn’t want to die, she was still young.
“Grandfather… save …” Lana Fern, pale-faced, feebly grasped at Spencer Childe’s coat, “Grandfather, save …”
Her voice grew weaker.
But Spencer Childe remained unmoved, as he was inherently a cold-blooded person, always putting himself first.
Spencer Childe stood behind the bodyguards, looked at Sylvan Cheney, and a cold smile curled on his lips: “You really found your way here.”
“Let Jasmine co over,” Sylvan Cheney said in a deep voice.
The two boats were separated by more than ten ters, the safest distance.
Compared to the boat full of Spencer Childe’s n, Sylvan Cheney had no advantage, only Charles Mcintosh by his side.
Spencer Childe’s death soldiers were not freeloaders; each was highly skilled, unwaveringly loyal, and only obeyed Spencer Childe’s orders.
Even if Spencer Childe ordered them to die without reason, they would imdiately show their loyalty through death.
Jasmine Yale fluttered her eyelids, feeling so tired…
“Jasmine!” Sylvan Cheney shouted, “Don’t sleep! I forbid you to sleep! Hang on!”
“Sylvan…” Jasmine Yale moved her lips, her voice was very faint, so faint that only she could hear it.
But Sylvan Cheney saw the shape of her lips and knew she was calling him.
He said anxiously, “I’m here, you’re not allowed to sleep, I’ll take you ho.”
He was afraid, panicked, distraught.
He had experienced this terrifying feeling once before, never expecting to endure it a second ti.
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