My Great Escape Led Me to You novel Chapter 245

Emily Blair had been massaging Andrew Lane’s temples for nearly twenty minutes. Both hands ached with a dull, relentless fatigue, her fingers trembling ever so slightly each time she moved. Her arms, suspended in midair for so long, felt as if someone had hung leaden weights from her elbows; she wanted nothing more than to let them fall to her sides.

She pressed her lips together, determined to hold on a little longer. But exhaustion got the better of her, and she paused, lowering her hands just for a moment. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Are you feeling better now?”

She hoped that this small gesture of submission might soften him, that maybe trying to please him would get her somewhere.

But Andrew Lane wasn’t like Alex White.

Alex, for all his wildness, was still tethered by Isabella Austin, a mad dog with some semblance of restraint.

Andrew, on the other hand, was an entirely different animal—a beast no one could leash. When he sank his teeth in, he didn’t let go until he’d drawn blood. He’d tear off a piece of flesh, rip away a layer of skin, and only then would he be satisfied.

Right now, she was just a high school girl—fragile, powerless, and desperately wishing to keep her distance from Andrew Lane and Isabella Austin. She had no desire to go head-to-head with Andrew, not now.

But she’d made her choice. By releasing the security footage, she had dragged Isabella Austin into the fire, smearing her name before everyone. She knew Andrew and Alex would come after her for this—it was inevitable.

She’d been reckless, but she didn’t regret it. She’d weighed the consequences before she acted.

What she hadn’t expected was for Alex White to lose all control and strike another competitor in front of everyone, his arrogance on full display.

And Andrew Lane was even more unpredictable than Alex.

She waited for his response. After a beat, Andrew answered, his voice low and rich, “Keep going.”

Emily frowned, but forced herself to lift her arms again, pressing her fingertips gently but firmly against his temples.

Another ten minutes passed. By now, her arms throbbed, her muscles burning, every movement making her bones creak with imagined rust.

She couldn’t hold on any longer and finally let her hands fall away.

She’d noticed a while ago that Andrew’s brow had smoothed out, his expression now relaxed and almost languid—not at all like someone tormented by a headache.

The moment she stopped, Andrew reached up and grabbed her wrist, his grip sudden and unyielding. With one swift tug, he pulled her forward, so close her chin brushed against his shoulder.

She barely had time to react before she found herself awkwardly draped over him.

Her brows shot up. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

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