Chapter 792: Found the Antidote (5)

Chapter 792: Chapter 792: Found the Antidote (5)

Quentin Holland continued to pummel him, each blow more vicious than the last, but Aaron Wyatt never once fought back.

He knew why Quentin was hitting him. This was what he owed him.

Only when Quentin Holland was finished did Aaron Wyatt wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth. "How’s Annabelle?" he asked.

Hearing this, Quentin Holland flew into a rage. "What right do you have to ask that, huh?" he demanded furiously. "If it weren’t for you, Annabelle wouldn’t be in this state!"

Aaron Wyatt stood there, unable to utter a single word. Finally, he pressed his lips together and said, full of apology, "I’m sorry."

"I’m sorry?"

Quentin Holland repeated those two words, his expression a mask of scorn. "At this point, what good is saying you’re sorry?" he asked sarcastically. "Do you have any idea what Annabelle is like now? Her condition gets worse by the day. She won’t even make it three more months. Is that something a simple ’I’m sorry’ can fix?!"

Aaron Wyatt was speechless, simply standing there.

His face was a mess of black and blue from Quentin Holland’s fists, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth. But through it all, he hadn’t uttered a single word, nor had he offered any defense for himself.

After a while, Quentin Holland finally calmed down.

He knew this wasn’t Aaron Wyatt’s fault. In fact, Aaron was a pitiful figure in his own right, his hands tied. He had never wanted things to turn out this way.

In other words, if it weren’t for Aaron Wyatt, Annabelle Linton would likely have died long ago.

Aaron Wyatt received severe punishment every time he failed to complete a mission, but he never complained.

And yet, he couldn’t help but take his anger out on him.

Quentin Holland took a long drag from his cigarette, then said gravely, "Given Annabelle’s current physical condition, I’m afraid she won’t make it past three months."

Aaron Wyatt’s head snapped up. He stared at Quentin in disbelief. "How could this be?!"

Quentin Holland closed his eyes. "Unless an antidote appears, she refuses to give up," he said grimly. "She experiments on her own body every day. There’s just no stopping her."

"Yesterday, she was bleeding from her eyes, ears, and nose. We spent hours just trying to stabilize her. Her eyes are wrapped in gauze now, and her body is severely depleted. The complications from the virus have all started to manifest, but she still refuses to give up."

"She still won’t give up?"

Aaron Wyatt stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the question.

’But the antidote is impossible to develop. For Annabelle Linton to keep on like this... she’s throwing her life away! Isn’t this just suicide?’

"Annabelle can’t go on like this!" Aaron Wyatt exclaimed.

"I know she can’t go on like this either."

Quentin Holland stubbed out his cigarette. "I know," he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and helplessness. "At this point, there’s no meaning in hiding things anymore. It’s time Annabelle knew the whole truth. And that includes who her real parents are. First, give me the antidote you have."

Aaron Wyatt could only stare at him, his expression still one of pure shock. His ears were ringing, and his feet felt as if they’d taken root; he couldn’t move a single step.

’Tell her everything? Wouldn’t that just put her in even greater danger?’

Quentin Holland knew what he was thinking. He sighed and said, laying out the situation, "Annabelle has to know the whole truth now."

"Right now, we only have one dose of the antidote. My original plan was to have Annabelle come here to run experiments while we do our best to buy her more time with our current technology."