The Unwavering Heart That Broke (Nathalie and Lance) novel Chapter 632

Hearing that, Nathalie instantly froze, terrified of aggravating his injuries.

But her current position was ridiculously awkward. She was holding a glass of water in one hand while pressed flush against his chest, her body bent at a terrible angle.

She opened her mouth to complain, only to remember with a bitter pang that she no longer had a voice. Frowning, she raised her free hand and began to trace words onto his shoulder.

Even through the fabric of his hospital gown, her cool fingertips sent a clear message. Lance's Adam's apple bobbed as he deciphered the strokes.

—*Didn't you want water?*

Realizing what she was asking, the tension in his arms loosened slightly. Nathalie immediately seized the opportunity to slip out of his embrace. She gripped his shoulders, helped him sit up properly against the pillows, and placed the glass of water directly into his hands.

Lance took a few slow sips. The cool water soothed his parched throat, stripping away some of the harsh raspiness from his voice.

"Nathalie."

Two seconds later, she tapped his arm to signal she was listening.

Lance tilted his head slightly. Surrounded by an ocean of darkness, his other senses had heightened significantly. Listening to the subtle shifts in her breathing, he pinpointed exactly where she was sitting beside the bed.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I'm going to find a way to heal your voice. I'll do whatever it takes."

Nathalie gave another gentle tap of acknowledgment before taking the half-empty glass from his hands.

The faint clink of glass touching the nightstand echoed in the room, followed by the soft scrape of a chair leg against the floor, the rustle of clothing, and her light, rhythmic breathing.

Lance tracked every sound, turning his face perfectly toward her. "You're right there, aren't you?"

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Nicol, who had been slouching comfortably in his chair, immediately sat bolt upright. He shifted nervously, suddenly very interested in the floor tiles.

Lance was settling the score.

Nicol rubbed the back of his neck, his voice losing its usual bravado. "Look, at the end of the day, I'm Nathalie's bodyguard. I have to follow her orders..." He trailed off, sounding incredibly weak.

"You knew it was wrong, yet you went along with it anyway. Just because she was reckless enough to disregard her own safety doesn't mean you should have enabled her!" Lance's tone turned glacial.

If Nicol hadn't been fiercely loyal to Nathalie this entire time, Lance would have ended his career right then and there.

Knowing he was in the wrong, Nicol kept his mouth shut. Lance was about to deliver another verbal lashing when a cool hand suddenly grabbed his. Delicate fingertips pressed into his palm, tracing letters in a frantic, messy rush.

Unable to decipher the chaotic strokes, Lance gently caught her hand. "Nathalie, you're writing too fast. I can't understand you. Take your time, I won't interrupt."