The Real Heiress Rules the World

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Chapter 179 Sloane Unconscious

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Lucas’s heart sank. Without hesitation, he dove beneath the surface and began frantically searching the water.

Finally, several feet down, he spotted Sloane. She was unconscious, her body drifting slowly downward with the current. Lucas lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the surface with all his strength.

“Cough, cough…” Lucas burst through the water, gasping for air, one arm wrapped tightly around Sloane as he swam desperately toward the shore. The current was fast and unforgiving, but Lucas pushed himself to the limit, dragging Sloane up onto solid ground at last.

“Sloane! Wake up!” He dropped to his knees beside her, gently patting her cheeks, urgency thick in his voice. But Sloane’s eyes remained shut. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, she was clearly unconscious.

Lucas quickly checked her condition. There was a scrape on her forehead, and the wound on her arm had turned ghostly white from the cold river water. His chest tightened.

He had to treat her injuries immediately, any delay could make things worse.

Without wasting a second, he tore a strip from his shirt and rebandaged her wound. Then he lifted her onto his back and started into the depths of the forest.

steps were heavy. He knew the assassins had likely already circled down to the base of the cliff and were searching for any sign of them. He needed to find shelter fast, somewhere

growing colder against his back, her breathing more faint. The

he found a hidden

checking every corner. Only

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Chapter 179 Sloane Unconscious

to carry

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dry ground, then knelt to examine her wounds

bloated from the river–made Lucas’s expression darken. The bullet was still inside. If he didn’t remove it soon, infection would spread

Sloane, he stepped outside to search the area for medicinal herbs. He wasn’t a doctor, but during training with Andrew’s team, he’d learned how to remove a bullet. It was a long shot, but it was the only one he

heart pounding with relief when he saw Sloane still

his pack and held it over the fire to sterilize it. He crushed the anesthetic herbs, dripping the

Sloane’s arm as Lucas worked; sweat beaded on his forehead. Every motion was painstakingly careful, he couldn’t afford to hit

last, deep in the wound, he

lodged tight. Every time he adjusted his