Chapter 518

Chapter 518:

Could Ernest be terribly worried about her as well?

Late into the night…

The house was heavy with tension. Everyone remained gathered in the living room, waiting—except for Nyla, who had been too exhausted to keep up and was sent to rest by her grandsons. Then, at last—Quentin strode in, his voice breaking the unbearable stillness. “We found the driver!”

The words had barely left his lips before Eric shot to his feet. “Where is he?”

Quentin didn’t hesitate. “Our people are on their way to him now.”

“Then let’s go.”

Eric’s voice was sharp, decisive.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Linda!”

She turned to Ernest, blinking in surprise. “What is it, Ernest?”

Ernest met her gaze, his expression unwavering. “We’re going too.”

What? Her hands curled slightly at her sides. Even in the dim light, the faint pallor in her face was noticeable. “We? But your health—”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ernest brushed aside any hesitation with a decisive wave of his hand. “Hadley is like a sister to me.”

How could he possibly sit back when his sister was missing? His gaze snapped toward Linda, sharp and unyielding. “If you don’t want to come, then stay here.”

Linda’s fingers twitched, her forced smile barely holding. “What are you talking about?” she said lightly, masking the sting. “Of course, I’m worried about Hadley too.”

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Like a sister?

The thought almost made her laugh. That was nothing more than a convenient excuse.

But she had no intention of staying behind—not when she needed to keep an eye on him.

Suppressing the flicker of irritation, she softened her tone. “I just don’t want you overexerting yourself.” With a smooth motion, she stepped forward, gripping the wheelchair handles. “Let’s go together.”

Ernest hesitated for a beat, but then nodded. “Alright.”

The night air was crisp, heavy with anticipation.

Eric stepped outside, his gaze sweeping over the lineup of cars. A flash of silver-gray caught his attention.

Denver. So, he hadn’t left?

Eric barely spared him a glance. If the man wanted to tag along, so be it. Without another thought, he slid into his own car as the convoy roared to life.

Meanwhile, Denver’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. A dull ache pulsed through his leg, growing sharper with every mile.

Snow fell thick and heavy, blanketing the deserted factory district in an eerie silence.

There were no towering buildings in sight, just rows of dilapidated structures, their metal sheets rusted from years of neglect.

The air was damp, laced with a musty stench that clung to the concrete walls. Inside the low, shabby houses, the floor was nothing more than rough, unfinished cement.

A single copper wire dangled from the ceiling, feeding into an old incandescent bulb that flickered with an irritating orange glow.

The atmosphere reeked of unease.

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