chsdbacks Chapter 944 Kiel Confesses
Chapter 944 Kiel Confesses
The air was thick with the smells of gunpowder, the salty tang of the sea, and the heavy breathing of the three men.
They stood on the relatively stable floor of the carriage, gazing out the window at the wreckage of the carriage that had once carried life-or-death speeds, crashing into the turbulent sea and creating towering water columns before being swallowed by the rolling waves.
Kiel's gaze, like the most sophisticated scanner, quickly swept across Baijiu's pale but still composed face. After confirming that he was alright, she subtly took a half-step back.
Without a word of farewell, without exchanging glances, she was like a silent shadow, taking advantage of the fact that Baijiu and Vermouth's attention was still focused on the outside world.
He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the connecting area between the carriages.
As if sensing something, Baijiu suddenly turned its head, only to find the passageway empty.
His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to call out to something, but before he could speak, his peripheral vision was drawn to a long, black package in the corner.
He frowned slightly, temporarily suppressing the complex emotions in his heart, took a few steps forward, and half-squatted down.
The package was made of military-grade waterproof canvas and had no markings.
He deftly unfastened the clasp and opened the package—inside were two neatly folded, brand-new parachute packs.
Baijiu picked up one of the umbrella bags, weighed it in his hand, and confirmed that it was the right size.
His tense jawline finally relaxed a bit, and a smile appeared on his lips: "Thank you so much, Old Black."
This abrupt, incomplete sentence drifted into the air.
Vermouth also walked over, looked at the umbrella on the ground, then at Baijiu's expression, a deep light flashing in her eyes.
"A paraglider?" Vermouth leaned against the wall.
“Yes.” Baijiu picked up one of the items and began to equip it immediately: “We can use it to leave here.”
The carriage emitted a regular, soft creaking sound due to inertia, temporarily escaping the threat of being smashed to pieces.
Vermouth didn't check the parachute that Baijiu had found; her gaze swept past the messy carriage and toward the rear.
In the corner of that relatively intact VIP room, Kiel slumped in an expensive velvet sofa.
She seemed to have all her strength drained away, her head tilted back weakly against the sofa, her neck forming a tired arc.
His hands rested on his thighs, which were covered by tactical trousers, palms facing up, fingers slightly curled, revealing a kind of exhaustion that indicated he had given up the struggle.
Her face was stained with gunpowder, sweat, and a trace of dried blood, and her tightly closed eyes were shadowed.
The figure was lonely and desolate, as if it were not resting, but quietly waiting for a predetermined end—a complete coma, and the arrival of death.
Vermouth's eyes narrowed slightly, and she moved almost silently to stand in front of Gil.
She crouched down, her movements unusually hurried, her fingers precisely pressing on the artery on the side of Kiel's carotid artery, while her other hand gently brushed aside the stray hairs on her forehead that were damp with sweat, checking for any possible wounds on her body.
When her fingertips touched the faint yet tenacious pulse beneath Kiel's cool skin, a barely perceptible trace of heartache flashed across her usually aloof and beautiful face.
The emotion vanished quickly, but it was betrayed by her tense voice: "Baijiu! Baijiu!" She turned her head and shouted towards the connecting area between the carriages.
His voice was a few decibels louder than usual, carrying an unmistakable anxiety.
The call broke the brief silence inside the carriage.
Upon hearing the sound, Baijiu immediately turned around, his gaze quickly locking onto Vermouth and Gil, who was slumped on the sofa.
He frowned, immediately dropped the parachute pack in his hand, and strode over.
Baijiu walked quickly to the sofa, squatted down, and when his gaze fell on Kiel's face, his heart sank.
Those once sharp, defiant eyes now stared blankly at the carriage ceiling, devoid of any luster, like dusty glass.
Her face was as pale as paper, her lips were an ominous bluish-purple, and only the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest proved that she was still alive.
This state is less like severe injury and weakness, and more like a "living dead" state where the spirit has completely collapsed and even the will to live has been extinguished.
Baijiu made his throat feel tight, and countless questions and complex emotions surged in his chest, but he didn't know how to ask about this sudden change and sacrifice.
Just then, Kiel's chapped lips moved slightly, emitting a faint, almost inaudible sound, so weak it was almost drowned out by the noise of the wheels: "...It's true..."
Her eyes remained vacant, as if she were talking to thin air.
"Everything...is real..."
Baijiu and Vermouth exchanged a deeply solemn look.
Kiel seemed to have used up his last bit of strength, his eyes turning extremely slowly toward the direction of the liquor, but he seemed unable to truly focus.
Her voice was broken and intermittent, filled with a bone-chilling fear and a resigned despair: "He... told me... I would betray him..."
Kiel forced a bitter smile that was more like a grimace, the curve of his lips conveying endless exhaustion and mockery.
“Is that really so…” she murmured, her voice hoarse like a broken bellows.
Her eyes welled up with tears, glistening with moisture, but stubbornly refused to fall.
She lifted her heavy eyelids, and her once empty eyes now focused intently on Baijiu's face, reflecting his solemn and concerned expression.
This concern made her even more confused and distressed.
As if using her last bit of strength, she asked the question that had been lingering in her heart for so long, perhaps the very question that had sustained her until this moment, to ask him directly:
"Why……?"
Her breathing quickened, her voice choked with sobs, "Why did you spare my life...?"
Her eyes were filled with genuine bewilderment, and even a hint of desperate pleading for the truth.
“Cohen…and Chianti…” Her voice trembled with each name she uttered, as if the two names carried a scorching heat.
"...It's all my fault...I'm the one who killed them..."
She uttered the last few words almost in a breath, carrying a sense of utter self-denial and a heavy burden of guilt.
She finally confessed to the guilt that had overwhelmed her, as if awaiting final judgment.
Only her broken breathing and the endless howling of the wind outside the window remained in the carriage.