Divorce Failed! My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 340

Andres turned to Maeve, hope flashing in his eyes like a reflex.

"Do you have something—anything—that can keep him alive until we get him into surgery?"

Maeve looked at both men.

"The bullet went through his heart," she said flatly. "Do you honestly think he'll still be alive when you reach a hospital?"

Andres and Hans went quiet, their hearts sinking.

They weren't doctors, but they weren't fools either.

A heart pierced by a bullet didn't keep beating.

Maeve didn't bother arguing. She stood and walked straight back to her SUV.

The vehicle had rolled during the chase, but it hadn't ended upside down.

She opened the door, climbed in, and for a second Andres and Hans thought she was about to drive off and leave them in the dark.

Instead, Maeve hit the gas and pulled the SUV right up in front of them.

She stepped out and clicked a button on a remote.

Then, in front of everyone, the impossible happened.

The shabby-looking SUV transformed like something out of a blockbuster.

The rear compartment unfolded and reassembled into a compact surgical bay.

A real one.

A single-person operating table.

Lights. Instruments. A simplified sterile enclosure.

Maeve barked orders at the stunned onlookers.

"Now. Get the patient onto the table."

She tied back her hair, put on a mask, pulled on disposable surgical scrubs, then snapped on sterile gloves.

Hans finally understood what she meant. He waved several men over, and together they lifted Murray—fully unconscious now—onto the operating table with careful hands.

Maeve kept going. "You—tear his shirt off."

Then she tossed Andres a tool case. "You recognize what's in there?"

Andres had always known Maeve had a gift for pharmacology.

He had never known she'd been a combat surgeon.

This girl had too many veils.

And every time one lifted, it left him stunned all over again.

He'd thought calling it a "small operation" was just Maeve trying to calm them down.

But the entire rescue took less than an hour.

She worked with ruthless efficiency—opened the chest, removed the bullet, then dripped several drops of a strange liquid onto the damaged heart tissue.

Still, she had the presence of mind to explain to Andres, who was assisting her.

"Don't ask," she said without looking up. "If you do, the answer is: I made it."

"A specialized drug—rapid cellular regeneration."

Murray's heart had been shredded into near pulp by the impact.

But those drops—her "Revive Elixir"—were meant to bring it back to perfect working condition.