Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace ( Dexter )
Chapter 269

Chapter 269 

The incessant hum of medical equipment, the sharp scent of antiseptic, the sterile wash of fluorescent lights, and the sepulchral silence of the hallways… 

“Hang in there…” 

The hoarse and piercing screams resonated through the isolation ward. 

The young nurse stood aside, turning her gaze away in sympathy. 

On the hospital bed, the man clinging to life gripped a small, wallet–sized photo with fingers grotesquely mangled by burns. 

“Phoebe…” 

“Phoebe…” 

“Your vocal cords are damaged; surgery can’t fully restore them. Try not to speak; bear with it.” 

The doctor, with a heavy heart, whispered his instructions. 

“Mhm.” He simply bowed his head into the pillow, enduring as the doctor worked on his raw and mangled wounds. 

“How is he holding up?” 

“Why does someone so handsome have to suffer like this?” 

“His survival is a miracle.” The doctor sighed as he left the ward. 

“Multifocal burns… The pain from those superficial second–degree burn areas can reach a level 10. It’s going to significantly affect and stimulate his senses. Even if he lives, his perception of pain will become numb.” The doctor peered at Colin through the 

observation window. 

He lay there, seemingly surviving on sheer willpower alone. 

“Phoebe…” 

Slowly, he loosened his fingers, gently wiping the bloodstained photo. His eyes shimmered with a soft light 

“I’ll wait…” 

“I’m sorry… I’ve made you wait too long. Don’t blame me.” 

“Brendan insisted we keep a close eye on him, not to let him leave the hospital. Once his 

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10:23 

condition improves, we’ll take him back.” 

“You can’t leave, sir. 

Beep… 

The hospital alarm sounded, drawing the attention of the doctor and bodyguards with its fire alert 

Colin donned an oversized hoodie with the hood pulled up, gritting through the pain, limping his way out. 

Blood, the color of pale pink roses, oozed from his prematurely stressed leg wounds. 

No one knew how much he hurt. 

But he didn’t want to make his Phoebe wait any longer. 

“Phoebe…” 

He didn’t know what strength he drew upon to leave the hospital nor how much effort it took to reach the doorstep of Phoebe’s home. 

But the place was already empty. 

“Poor family, both parents gone, left a daughter behind. Heard she was in a coma for ages, woke up, and went to live with relatives.” 

Upon hearing the neighbor’s words, Colin’s eyes reddened as he turned and ran. 

His wounds screamed in pain. He was at constant risk of infection, but he couldn’t let his Phoebe face the agony of loss alone. 

“Phoebe…” 

Finally, at the school gates, he saw his Phoebe. 

“Ah!” But her eyes met his with utter unfamiliarity. 

“Phoebe…” His voice broke, so hoarse and alien it nearly shattered him. 

His Phoebe, she didn’t recognize him. 

“Who are you? Stop following me… Help!” Phoebe mistook him for a stalker, running and screaming for help. 

Colin stood numbly, his outstretched hand frozen in place. He retreated into an alley, his breath ragged as he pounded his own head in frustration. 

Why… Why was even his voice changed? 

Why did he frighten Phoebe? 

“Phoebe…” 

10:24 

From that day, Colin followed his Phoebe almost every day, unseen. He watched her go to school, watched her return home, and watched her trail cautiously behind Dexter, her eyes and heart filled with another man. 

‘Phoebe… I don’t blame you.” 

In his feverish delirium, he’d whisper assurances. Though Phoebe couldn’t hear, he continued to comfort her. 

“Phoebe, I don’t blame you for forgetting me. Nor do I blame you for falling for someone else.” 

That day, Colin, despite a raging fever and pain that nearly contorted his body, took one 

step at a time toward the school entrance. 

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