Chapter 79
Chapter 79:
Cristian restarted the motorcycle, the engine’s hum steady as he steered toward the race’s finish line. This time, he rode cautiously, his sharp eyes sweeping the roadside with intent. He searched for skid marks, knowing that the abrupt halt of a speeding vehicle often left scars etched into the asphalt.
After several kilometers, his vigilance paid off. On the road ahead, faint traces of a fall became visible, and unusual green metallic scratches marked the stones nearby. These signs pointed to a green motorcycle—but not Fernanda’s. Relief eluded him; instead, a suffocating tension tightened his chest.
The road curved here, the gentle slope cushioning the side. Yet Cristian knew that just ahead the incline grew perilously steep. If an accident had occurred, he prayed it was here, where the damage might be less severe. Drawing in a steadying breath, he mounted the motorcycle again and pressed on.
At the next bend, a grim sight awaited him. The asphalt was unmarked, but the steep uphill slope bore a deep gouge, its jagged edges punctuated with pits, as if a heavy object had slammed into it and dragged downward. Dense underbrush cloaked the descent below, its tangled mass a stark contrast to Cristian’s spiraling thoughts. His stomach twisted at the possibility of Fernanda having fallen here.
“Fernanda!” he bellowed, his voice carrying into the depths. “Are you here?”
Silence greeted him.
Cristian found himself in inner turmoil. He could climb down to search, but if Fernanda wasn’t there, the delay could worsen her situation elsewhere. He called out again several times, but the oppressive stillness refused to yield.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. He made up his mind to go down and search. Fernanda might have fallen and lost consciousness. He secured the locator from the motorcycle, tucked it into his pocket, and began his descent.
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The slope was treacherous, loose stones and soil shifting underfoot with every step. Grains of sand and clumps of earth tumbled downward as he moved swiftly yet carefully, his body adjusting to maintain balance. He concentrated on each footfall, determined to find her before it was too late.
The forest below swallowed his view, denser than he’d anticipated. Once inside, the trees wove an impenetrable screen, cutting off any line of sight. Broken branches littered the ground, their fresh snaps a clear sign of recent disturbance. Each step deepened the unease coiling in Cristian’s gut.
“Fernanda, are you here?” he called again, his voice raw with desperation. Silence answered him.
The bent grass and disrupted foliage guided him deeper. His breaths quickened as he neared the bottom of the slope. Through the shadows, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. “Fernanda!” he cried, surging forward. In moments, he reached her.
She lay sprawled on the ground, motionless. Cristian’s hands trembled as he lifted her upper body and turned her over. His heart clenched when he saw her face—it was Fernanda. Her closed eyes and eerie stillness sent a wave of panic through him. Relief at finding her dissolved into sharp-edged anxiety.
He stripped off his gloves and hovered his fingers above her neck, hesitation betraying his fear. Warmth met his fingertips, but he needed more certainty. Swallowing hard, he pressed firmly and shut his eyes, concentrating. Her pulse was faint but steady. His tense frame sagged as the weight of relief overtook him, exhaustion flooding in and leaving him crumpled beside her.
Cristian noticed then the sweat soaking his clothes. Gently, he patted Fernanda’s face, calling her name in a soft, urgent tone. But her unresponsiveness lingered, a stubborn silence that would not break.
Cristian inspected her injuries precisely. Her cheek bore a minor scrape, a shallow graze that posed no immediate concern. Her elbows and knees, protected by her gear, remained unscathed. However, the unnatural softness of her left ankle revealed a clear dislocation.
As he supported her upper body, a sticky warmth met his right hand. Looking down, he saw his palm coated in blood. His heart skipped a beat when he gently lifted Fernanda’s torso and discovered a deep, jagged gash on her neck. The wound, likely cut by a rough branch, bled relentlessly.
Acting swiftly, Cristian resolved to stop the bleeding. Scanning his surroundings, he spotted a white shape among the trees a short distance away—it was Fernanda’s motorcycle. During their races, each bike carried a storage box filled with essential repair tools and emergency supplies, a precaution for moments like this.
Cristian carefully laid Fernanda back on the ground, dashed to the bike, and pried open the storage box. Inside, the first aid kit waited. Though the motorcycle was battered, it had miraculously avoided catching fire, leaving its contents untouched. He retrieved disinfectant and bandages, then returned to Fernanda’s side.
He soaked a piece of gauze in alcohol and began cleaning the gash on her neck. The instant the alcohol touched her skin, Fernanda’s body flinched, a small but noticeable movement. Cristian froze, leaning closer, his voice gentle but urgent.
“Fernanda, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and slowly, she opened her eyes.
Her vision blurred, showing only damp earth and emerald leaves at first. As her gaze lifted, a wave of dizziness washed over her—then she saw Cristian, his face handsome and etched with concern.
“Fernanda?” Cristian’s deep, steady voice cut through her haze. “Can you hear me?”
Her lips parted, the sound of his name slipping out faintly. “Cristian?”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here,” he said, nodding quickly. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
Memories of the moments before she lost consciousness flooded back. She remembered the uncontrollable speed, the slippery slope, and her desperate attempts to stop her descent. She recalled the branches tearing at her as she tumbled, then the sharp, searing pain in her neck. Even as she hit the ground, she had stayed conscious long enough to feel warmth draining from her body, her strength fading, her vision dimming until darkness claimed her.
Never had she imagined Cristian would find her in this hidden, shadowed valley. Yet seeing him now brought unexpected relief. Deep down, a part of her had trusted him to come, to save her, to guide her out of this place. A calmness settled over her—she had never placed this kind of faith in anyone before.
“Cristian,” she murmured, her voice soft with gratitude, “thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” Cristian replied, brushing a gentle hand across her forehead. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”
Her eyes drifted closed as she offered a small nod. To her surprise, fear no longer gripped her. In its place was a profound trust in Cristian. Even as her body throbbed with pain, as if broken into pieces, she felt safe. His presence had this soothing effect on her.
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