He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 345

He gestured, and two men stepped forward to grab her.

Yvonne surged forward, dropping all three men with a sweeping low kick.

Ottilie pointed her jagged branch at the closest rioter. "Nobody move. The first person who steps forward is getting this right in the eye."

Everyone present already knew the rumors of how she had supposedly nearly blinded Nyssa on set.

Suddenly, the wail of police sirens pierced the air.

Panicked, the crowd dropped their makeshift weapons and scattered.

As the mob cleared, Yorath stepped out of his car, flanked by a fleet of police cruisers.

He walked straight to Ottilie, scanning her from head to toe. Only after confirming she was unharmed did he pull her into a tight embrace.

"It's over. Don't be afraid."

"Where were you?" she asked.

Yvonne had only brought her outside because she received his call saying he had arrived at the hospital gates.

"I was here the whole time," Yorath said softly. "I saw how brave and calm you were, staring down a mob like that. From this moment on, I'm your most devoted fan."

Ottilie immediately understood.

He had arrived early but waited for the crowd to commit a crime in progress so they could actually be charged.

Otherwise, it would just be dismissed as a chaotic fan gathering blocking traffic, and no arrests would stick.

Corbin Vance walked over to take her statement.

"I suspect Ms. Tarrant paid them to murder me," Ottilie stated clearly. "They said it themselves—that they were going to beat me to death and that the law couldn't punish all of them. They admitted to being her fans. I want a full investigation into her bank accounts and social media to see if she orchestrated this mob."

She then pulled out a recording pen and handed over the audio of the entire confrontation.

Officer Vance bagged the evidence. "Don't worry, Ms. Sewell. The law won't let any criminal slip away."

"Thank you." She got into the car with Yorath, her hand still locked in a death grip around the branch.

It was barely thicker than a finger and not particularly lethal, but in her hands moments ago, it had looked like a legendary broadsword.

He reached out to take it, but her grip was white-knuckled.

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