Chapter 1308
Chapter 1308:
My voice shook, like a man clinging to a fading hope in the depths of despair.
Makenna’s POV:
I opened my eyes suddenly, chest heaving frantically, a cold sweat soaking through my thin clothes.
The memories rushed back, flooding my mind in relentless waves—the drunk brute’s cruel, distorted features, my desperate dash through the forest, heart racing and lungs burning…
“Makenna, I’m here. You’re safe.”
A soothing male voice drifted through the darkness.
Startled, I jerked my head around to find a stranger sitting quietly beside my bed. Moonlight spilled through the window, gently outlining his sharp, handsome features. His hair was loosely tied back, revealing striking amber eyes brimming with concern.
“Who are you? Stay back!” Fear seized me instantly, and I recoiled, pressing my trembling back firmly against the cold headboard.
The man instinctively reached out but halted mid-motion, his hand frozen in the space between us. “It’s me,” he whispered, voice impossibly gentle. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
His features stirred something inexplicable in me, a sudden, unidentifiable ache deep within my chest. Did I know him?
“Makenna, do you… really not remember me?” he asked cautiously, the depth of concern in his eyes impossible to hide.
I pressed my fingers to my temples as a dull pain began throbbing, intensifying as I struggled to remember. “My head… it hurts…” I curled inward, gripping the sheets tightly, nails biting sharply into my palms.
“It’s alright, don’t push yourself,” the man urged. He edged closer instinctively but restrained himself, mindful not to overwhelm me. “If you can’t remember, that’s fine. Don’t force it.”
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Lifting my gaze, I caught the storm raging behind his amber eyes—anguish, worry, and something else deeper still, elusive and mysterious.
For reasons beyond my understanding, seeing the sorrow in his expression deepened the ache in my chest.
The stranger carefully perched himself on the bed’s edge, aware of my cautious scrutiny.
“Makenna, it’s okay if you’ve forgotten. We can start anew,” he said gently, each word carefully measured. “My name is Jett Armstrong. I’m the second prince of the Wizard Clan.”
“Jett Armstrong…” I murmured the name softly, feeling a strange bitterness on my tongue. A sudden tightness gripped my chest, and I instinctively placed a hand over my heart, brows furrowed. Why did hearing this name cause such inexplicable pain? Perhaps I really had known him before.
Jett’s gaze remained steady on me, lips parted slightly as if holding back unspoken words. Before he could speak, a soft knock interrupted.
“Your Highness, the meal is prepared.”
The door opened, and several servants entered gracefully, each carrying lacquered trays filled with steaming, aromatic dishes.
Jett immediately rose, taking a bowl of steaming soup from the first servant. With practiced ease, he spooned out a portion, blew on it gently, and held it carefully toward me.
.
.
.