Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 245

Darren’s voice wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the howling blizzard like a blade of polar wind—cold, sharp, and deadly. In an instant, his presence overpowered even the storm’s growl.

The armed thugs froze, stunned by the sudden arrival of heavily armed mercenaries and the chilling force of Darren’s demeanor.

“Sorry—this is all a misunderstanding!” one of them stammered.

Without waiting for a reply, he barked a sharp order in the local language: “Fall back!” The gang scrambled for their vehicles, engines roaring as they vanished into the endless white.

The danger passed, and the mercenaries fanned out with disciplined precision, securing the perimeter.

The research professors stood pale and shaken, still reeling from the near disaster.

But Darren seemed oblivious to everyone else. He turned, his gaze locking onto the woman in the wheelchair.

Charlotte sat bundled in an insulated parka, cheeks tinged pink from the cold. Her eyes, however, were as clear and frosty as ever—eyes he knew too well. Yet beneath that familiar reserve, he caught the faintest trace of something else, a subtle tremor she tried to suppress.

He crouched, lowering himself to her level.

A thousand words caught in his chest, but all he managed was a rough, husky question. “Charlotte, are you hurt?”

Charlotte glanced down, sliding a compact pistol back into the hidden compartment of her wheelchair.

“No,” she replied, her tone cool, almost indifferent.

Despite her frosty response, Darren felt a surge of relief that caught him off guard.

He rose and turned to the professors. “I’ve brought people and equipment. From here on out, I’ll be joining your expedition.”

“Mr. Harrington, this is far too dangerous—” protested one of the older professors, who saw him as nothing more than a pampered heir with no real commitment to science.

Darren’s voice was steady and resolute. “You’re all top scholars, the best in your fields. If you’re not afraid to risk it, why should I be?”

He didn’t wait for further argument. Instead, he directed his mercenaries to help reinforce the camp and personally handed out the high-calorie meals and supplies he’d brought.

Charlotte watched him with a faint frown. Darren seemed… different.

The words were barely out when he unzipped the tent and stepped inside, flashlight in hand.

Without a word, he strode over, shrugged off his heavy fur-lined coat, and wrapped it securely around her. Before she could protest, he scooped her up—coat and all—holding her firmly in his arms.

Startled, Charlotte protested, “Just fix the heater. Put me down.”

But Darren’s grip was unyielding, his voice brooking no argument. “My tent’s insulated with special materials and has its own power supply. You’ll be safer there.”

He carried her out into the raging storm, step by step, shielding her from the icy wind.

In moments, they were inside his tent. He gently set her down on a makeshift bed piled high with thick furs, then turned to head back out into the blizzard to oversee repairs.

“Mr. Harrington!” Charlotte called after him, her voice sharper than she intended.

Darren paused at the entrance, glancing back at her.