The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1210

The light flickered in the blizzard, a lone star in the darkness, illuminating his path forward.

It was the research station.

Alexander gritted his teeth and, with the last of his strength, staggered toward that single point of light.

Closer. He was getting closer.

He could make out the silhouette of the station, could see figures moving on the platform.

Parham, on the platform, was the first to spot him. His face paled, and he immediately rushed over with several others.

“Mr. Davidson!”

Parham’s voice was laced with alarm. Seeing the unconscious Danielle on Alexander’s back and Alexander himself, covered in injuries and swaying on his feet, his heart dropped. “What happened to you?”

Alexander’s vision was already blurring. He hitched Danielle higher on his back and, with his last ounce of energy, said urgently, “Get a doctor, now. Check on Danielle, she has a high fever…”

Before he could finish, his strength gave out completely. He collapsed heavily to the ground, losing consciousness.

He had protected Danielle in his fall, and she was completely unharmed.

The snow swirled over his pale face, but he no longer felt the cold.

The lights of the research station blazed to life as medical staff hurried out, carrying the two unconscious figures into the warmth of the building.

-

When Danielle opened her eyes again, she found herself inside the research station.

Now that the fever had broken, her body felt as if it had been drained of all strength. She was sore all over, and even lifting a hand felt like a struggle.

Her head was heavy as lead, and her temples throbbed with a dull pain.

Almost instinctively, she threw off the covers and fought to get up.

There was only one thought in her mind—

Find Alexander.

How was he? Was he okay?

Had his hand injury gotten worse?

Fragments of their trek across the ice flashed through her mind: the man’s broad, solid back, his heavy yet steady steps, and the dull thud as he finally collapsed. Each memory was like a needle piercing her heart.

“Miss Crawford, you’re awake?”

Parham’s voice came from the doorway. He was carrying a bowl of warm porridge, his face etched with exhaustion and the lingering shadow of fear.

Danielle’s eyes locked onto him, her voice raspy. “Where is Alexander? Where is he?”

Parham’s hand paused, and a complicated expression crossed his face.

He set the bowl down and said softly, “Please, don’t worry. Mr. Davidson… he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s in the room next door.”

Danielle’s heart plummeted.

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