Even after Her Death (Chloe and Luke) novel Chapter 440

I was terrified to wake up.

I was afraid that when I regained consciousness, I would once again become a spirit, watching my body being torn apart.

I also feared that I might not have any consciousness at all, unable to even take one last look at Carter, still not having had the chance to say goodbye.

Before regaining full awareness, searing pain overwhelmed me.

The moment I felt the pain, I was strangely relieved; if I could still feel pain, it meant I was alive, not just a wandering soul.

As long as I was alive, I still had a chance.

My head and body ached from the impacts, each part of me throbbing.

The images from before I lost consciousness resurfaced—the sight of Zoey being discarded to the green belt, Harlan crawling toward her. She should be okay, right?

What about Whitney? Was her heart okay?

I suddenly opened my eyes, and only then did I realize my current situation.

Whitney was not far from me, still unconscious.

I scanned the surroundings. We were locked in a water prison, but fortunately, the water level wasn't too high—just a shallow layer that hadn't even covered my feet. The ground was damp.

The room was dark and musty, with only a small, square iron window.

Outside, it was pitch black; it had already turned night.

I listened carefully, hearing the sound of waves from afar.

I had a suspicion in my heart—was this the island that Yael once brought me to?

If the Carlyns were seeking revenge, they would definitely bring us to their burial ground.

Whitney's huge fish-tail wedding dress spread out on the ground, with diamonds scattered all over, glinting coldly in the darkness.

She was already slender and pale, resembling a stranded mermaid. Her entire form exuded a sense of fragility—beautiful, yet heartbreaking.

The dagger was scattered in the car.

I looked down and saw that the silver necklace around my neck was still there.

As long as the island didn't block signals, Carter would be able to detect my presence!

I propped myself up on the damp ground and struggled to stand up.

Thankfully, all my limbs were intact; I hadn't lost any arms or legs.

It seemed like only superficial injuries—some cuts from the broken glass, which explained the pain.

My head was spinning, and I felt a slight urge to vomit, likely from a mild concussion.

I staggered, taking slow, unsteady steps through the water, heading toward Whitney.

Whitney, you must survive.

As I got closer, I used the dim light outside to examine Whitney carefully.

She didn't have any obvious injuries, except for some cuts on the back of her hand from the glass.

Thankfully, they were just small wounds.

Although things had reached their worst, the current situation was the best possible outcome in the worst case.

I gently touched her face and hoarsely whispered, "Whitney, are you okay?"

"Chloe ... "

I finally breathed a sigh of relief as I heard her faint voice.

"How are you? Does your heart hurt?"

She slowly opened her eyes. "Chloe, I'm fine. You've been protecting me all this time."

Some things are hard to explain. Whitney had once undergone a heart transplant. The heart had a strong rejection reaction after surgery, but since she started using my heart, the compatibility between her body and the heart had gradually improved over the past six months, with no rejection symptoms at all. In fact, her health had gotten better.

This was probably the most valuable thing I did before I died—at least I protected my sister.