She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 926

It was a voice she knew all too well. Giselle's eyes flew open, her head whipping toward the shattered window.

The man's face was obscured by the darkness and the pouring rain, but those deep, magnetic eyes—that familiar, unwavering intensity—made her breath hitch.

"Hank..." She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, absolutely paralyzed.

Seeing that she was fully conscious, a profound wave of relief washed over him. "Don't be scared."

Moving like a spider against the cliff face, Hank began wrestling with the heavy industrial straps, working to lash the vehicle to the rock wall. Sitting in the back, Chloe watched as loose boulders continually tumbled past his head. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stammered, "It's a death trap out there! Why is Mr. Lonsdale the only one down there? Where is the rescue team?"

Giselle dug her nails into her palms, her eyes utterly locked onto him. "Because it's a suicide mission. The professionals wouldn't risk it. But he did."

For her, he had thrown his own life away without a second thought.

Above them, the crew was still screaming for him to turn back. They yelled that the ropes weren't long enough to loop around the chassis, that one man couldn't possibly secure the massive weight, and that if he stayed down there any longer, he would die.

In response, Hank simply reached for his waist and completely unclipped his own safety line.

Freeing the heavy rope from his harness, he hurled the heavy carabiner toward the undercarriage of the SUV over and over again until it finally hooked onto a solid structural point.

Taking the other end, he wrapped it around a massive, sturdy pine tree growing out of the cliff. He wound it around the trunk relentlessly, bracing his long legs against the slick rock wall. The veins in his arms and neck bulged as he strained against the impossible weight. Battered by the wind and rain, every single movement he made radiated a terrifying, borderline psychotic determination.

The sickening sway of the vehicle finally stabilized.

But Giselle thought he had completely lost his mind. She screamed through the broken window, "You lunatic! Don't unclip your safety line! Hank! Do you hear me?!"

He had severed his only lifeline. If he slipped now, he would fall straight to his death.

But he couldn't have cared less. Having narrowly secured the car, the rescue crew up top frantically threw down another lifeline, praying Hank could catch it.

Thankfully, his reflexes were sharp. He leaped, snatched the rope out of the air, and immediately clipped it onto his harness. Using his bare hands, he grabbed the jagged, shattered edges of the sunroof and violently tore the remaining glass away, completely indifferent to the shards slicing deep into his palms.

He thrust his bleeding hand down into the cabin. "Come on."

Myles instantly reached up to grab it, but Hank ruthlessly slapped his hand away. Locking eyes with Giselle, he ordered, "The front of the car is too heavy. You climb up first to balance the weight, then I'll pull Chloe out."

Giselle reached up.

Hank's hand clamped around her wrist like a vice. His palm was caked in mud, the deep lacerations from the glass bleeding profusely, yet his grip was impossibly tight. He didn't yield an inch, even as the muscles in his arm trembled from absolute exhaustion.

"Step on my leg and climb," Hank instructed.

Using his own battered body as a stepping stone, Giselle braced her foot against his thigh and hauled herself up by the rope, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.

Supporting her waist to stabilize her, Hank murmured softly, "Don't look down. I've got you."

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