The Unwavering Heart That Broke (Nathalie and Lance) novel Chapter 390

The waitress looked entirely apologetic. “I have a spare skirt in the back! Let me take you to the restroom to clean up, and I’ll run next door to buy you a completely new outfit, I promise!”

The burning sensation on her thigh was rapidly intensifying into actual pain. Nathalie didn’t argue and followed the frantic girl toward the back of the cafe.

Stripping off the soaked fabric in the stall, she saw that her luminous skin was already flushed red and irritated from the scald.

Knock, knock!

The restroom door opened slightly, and the waitress slipped inside, handing over a clean, folded skirt. “Ma’am, please wear this for just a few minutes while I run out and get you something nice. I’ll be right back!”

She looked positively sick with guilt, especially having realized that the clothes she had just ruined were expensive designer labels.

“Could you grab some burn cream while you’re at it?” Nathalie requested softly.

The waitress paled even further. “Oh… Yes, of course. Right away.”

Nathalie offered a gentle, reassuring smile. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you at all. Just go.”

Looking like she was on the verge of tears of gratitude, the waitress spun on her heel and bolted out the door.

Nathalie grabbed a handful of paper towels, soaked them in ice–cold water from the sink, and pressed them gently against the burn. The stinging throb immediately dialed down to a tolerable ache.

There was an upscale boutique district right around the corner. The girl wouldn’t need more than ten minutes.

Chapter 390

Nathalle swapped the damp towels out a few more times until her skin felt somewhat normal again.

But soon, she realized fifteen minutes had ticked by, and the waitress was nowhere to be found.

Nathalie frowned. Just as she debated stepping out to look for her, her phone rang. It was Nicol.

“Hello?”

Nicol’s tense voice crackled over the line. “Ms. Blair, where exactly are you?”

“I’m in the restroom at the back of the cafe,” she replied.

“Understood. I’m coming to you right now. I’ll wait right outside the door.”

“Okay.”

Nathalie ended the call. As she shoved her phone into her purse, a

strange, cloying floral scent caught her attention. It clashed horribly with the clean citrus smell of the bathroom’s air freshener, which was why she

noticed it at all.

She glanced around the empty space.

She was completely alone. Where was that smell coming from?

It took her brain a sluggish ten seconds to put the pieces together. Realization hit like a bucket of ice water. She instantly clamped a hand over her nose and mouth and lunged for the exit.

Just outside, standing near the entrance to the men’s room, was a man in a low–brimmed cap and a surgical mask. He was holding a bundle of smoking incense sticks.

The second he saw her push through the door, he chucked the smoking sticks into a trash can, grabbed her viciously by the arm, and started dragging her down the back corridor toward a set of low windows.

“Who the hell are you?!” Nathalie shrieked, kicking wildly.

But a heavy, terrifying lethargy was already sinking into her bones. A strange, suffocating heat began pooling in her stomach, and her desperate struggles quickly grew weaker and weaker.

“Son of a bitch, are they crawling out of the damn walls?!”

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