The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1221

Danielle gripped the handlebars, her eyes fixed on the snow-blurred road ahead, yet she could feel the warmth of Alexander’s body pressed against her back. He sat behind her, his large hands wrapped securely around her slender waist. The wind howled in her ears, mingling with the growing shouts of their pursuers. The clamor, sharp and piercing, seemed to cut right through the blizzard, threatening to shatter her eardrums.

“They’re definitely after us!” Danielle’s voice was thin, carried away by the wind. “I went back for the snowmobile. Do you know the way? Tell me where to go.” The pressure on her waist loosened slightly, and Alexander’s voice, as faint as a flickering candle, whispered close to her ear. Days of high fever and constant running had completely drained his strength; even speaking now took every ounce of his energy. “Head southwest. There’s an ice forest there. The terrain is complex—we can lose them.”

Just as Danielle was about to reply, she felt the arm around her waist begin to slip. The grip grew weaker, and his forehead, burning with fever, slumped against her back. A knot of panic tightened in her chest, a sour taste rising in her throat. “Alexander, don’t fall asleep! Stay with me!” The man didn’t answer, merely pressing his pale lips together. His breath, a faint mix of warmth and coolness, ghosted across her neck. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “Listen to me… if I really can’t hold on, don’t try to take me with you. You have to go on your own…”

“Shut up!” Danielle’s voice rose sharply. She stared at the vast, white expanse of the ice field, unable to tell one direction from another. Gritting her teeth, she freed one hand and fumbled in the side pocket of her backpack, pulling out a coil of climbing rope she’d prepared earlier. The rough texture against her palm gave her a sliver of confidence. “Alexander, give me your hand. I’m tying you to me.”

He seemed stunned, his unfocused gaze struggling to land on the rope in her hand. He tried to speak, but a violent cough wracked his body. Danielle had already turned, efficiently wrapping one end of the rope around her own waist and securing it with a tight knot. She then wound the other end around his torso, loop after loop, binding them firmly together. The coarse rope chafed against his thin clothes, leaving a faint red mark. He watched her, his gaze taking in her lowered eyes, the stubbornness and panic warring within them. His throat was too tight to make a sound.

“Even if you lose consciousness, you’re not falling off this snowmobile,” Danielle said softly. “If we die, we die together. And if we live, we live together.” As the knot tightened, a slight tremor ran through Alexander’s body. The hand on her waist found new strength, pulling her closer as if trying to merge her into his very bones.

Their pursuers hadn’t been shaken off; they were getting closer. The roar of engines multiplied, a clear sign they had called for backup and more snowmobiles had joined the chase. Beams from their headlights pierced the blizzard, casting dancing shadows across the ice field like omens of death.

The storm intensified, thick snowflakes plastering Danielle’s visor. Guided only by Alexander’s directions, she twisted the throttle desperately, hurtling them southwest. The tires churned through the deep snow, kicking up a spray of white powder. Icy particles pelted her face, making her eyes sting and turn red. The snowmobile bucked wildly, each jolt pulling at Alexander’s injuries. He let out a muffled groan but clenched his jaw, refusing to make another sound.