The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 294

From his left shoulder blade down to his lower back, large patches of dark red scars covered his skin, the surface uneven and raised.

It was the lasting mark of extensive burns.

Clara's mind went blank for a second.

They had been together for five years. Even after they broke up, she remembered what this body used to look like.

"Oh my god…" Clara's mother covered her mouth.

Lying on the sofa, Rhys felt the cool air on his back and the weight of everyone's stares. He instinctively tried to turn, to hide the scars from view.

Noah looked down, pressing a hand on his arm to stop him. He gently squeezed and rotated it.

"It's fine, no broken bones. No stitches needed, but it needs to be cleaned."

"Clara, hold his shoulder down for me. This is going to hurt a lot, so don't let him move."

Clara, as if waking from a dream, reached out, her hand hovering, unsure where to put it.

It was Rhys's shoulder, but it didn't feel like his.

Simon handed her his phone with the flashlight on and took over. "I've got him. Clara, you hold the light."

"Brace yourself."

Noah pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball firmly against the wound.

"Hiss—"

Caught off guard, Rhys's entire body flinched with pain, but Simon held him fast.

He lifted his head, his gaze piercing through his damp hair to lock onto Noah.

Noah's expression was impassive, his hands firm as he used tweezers to pull out tiny wood splinters embedded in the flesh.

"These splinters are deep. It'll get infected if they're not cleaned out," Noah explained coolly, swabbing the wound again. "I'm sure Rhys can handle it."

Rhys gritted his teeth. "My thanks to Dr. Carter."

Clara held the phone, the flashlight beam making the scars, both large and small, stand out in stark relief.

She turned her face away, unable to look at the new wounds, but her eyes landed on a round scar on his side.

Was that from a gunshot? Next to it was a long, thin line, as if from a knife.

"Do all SWAT officers get this many injuries?" Clara's mother couldn't help but ask, watching the water in the basin gradually turn red.

Rhys buried his face in the crook of his arm, his breathing ragged. "More or less. Depends on your luck."

After cleaning the wound, Noah applied ointment and wrapped it in layers of gauze.

But there wasn't a single photo of Noah by himself, let alone a photo of him and Clara as a couple. Even in the family portrait, the space where the man of the house should have been was empty.

There was no one standing beside Clara.

Rhys turned his head, his gaze falling on Noah, who was just starting to pack away the first-aid kit.

Noah met his eyes, and his expression tensed. "Looks like your luck is pretty good. The car was totaled, but you're still here."

Rhys didn't respond.

Clara returned, having changed out of her wet clothes. She carried a glass of water and a set of pajamas, placing them on the side table.

"Get dressed. They're Simon's, so you'll have to make do. They might be a bit small."

Rhys looked at her, then at the photo wall, and finally back at Noah.

Their eyes met.

One was weak but burning, like a spark erupting from dying embers. The other was steady and guarded, tense with a secret discovered.

Suddenly, a corner of Rhys's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Yeah."

He took a breath, his gaze fixed on the empty space on the wall. "I'm a lucky man."