How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 812

The search area was enormous.

Fleming soared through the night sky, carefully adjusting his altitude to a level that was both safe and gave him a clear view of the chaos below.

He knew Elodie well. In a crowd, she’d stand out—she always did—so if she was down there, he’d spot her quickly enough.

Smoke still drifted up from the ground, making it hard to see. Fleming frowned, dipping a little lower for a better look.

Adrian’s voice crackled in his headset. “Fleming! Are you out of your mind? There’s been no order from command! You’ll be held responsible if you keep this up!”

They were military, after all—discipline was enforced with ironclad rules, and following orders wasn’t optional.

But tonight was different.

Still, there would be consequences for acting on his own.

Fleming scanned the ground with laser focus.

He felt strangely detached about the risk. He knew exactly what he was doing.

After all, Esmeralda had made herself clear…

He wasn’t going to overthink it.

Compared to human life, any disciplinary action seemed trivial.

Especially since Elodie was a national treasure in her field—there was no way command would let anything happen to her.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.

Meanwhile, Adrian had found a quiet spot to land the chopper. Only then did he ask, “You’re doing this for Lucy, aren’t you? I’ve seen it for a long time now—Lucy cares about you, and you always indulge her. What else could it be?”

No doubt, he’d been swayed by Esmeralda’s announcement that the engagement was off.

Now, nothing stood in the way of following his heart.

Fleming didn’t answer.

Frankly, he didn’t think the question even deserved one.

Suddenly, his gaze sharpened, locking on to something a few dozen meters below.

Through flickering tongues of fire, he spotted a car racing down the road. The headlights illuminated the windshield, making it shine like a beacon in the darkness.

Fleming followed Jarrod’s warning, glancing past the speeding car. A hundred yards back, several heavy-duty vehicles were in pursuit: top-of-the-line SUVs, barreling forward with unmistakable menace.

Bang!

Jarrod’s car was hit. It lurched sideways, but the driver managed to steady it at once.

Fleming grasped the situation immediately.

Jarrod was being hunted down.

Whoever was after them, they meant business—relentless and dangerous. If Fleming landed now, he’d be a sitting duck before Jarrod could even reach the chopper.

But Fleming had seen worse. He dropped lower, flying ahead of Jarrod’s car and scanning the road below.

Jarrod understood at once, gesturing decisively toward the route ahead.

Fleming gunned the engine, racing forward in that direction, dropping to the lowest safe altitude. He hovered, ready to pick them up the moment they arrived—saving precious seconds by skipping the usual landing and takeoff routine.

With luck, they might all make it out alive.