Chapter 386


    The blood type of both of them was type-A. The nurse nned to draw 400ml, but Mark wanted the


    nurse to draw 1,000ml from him.


    The nurse refused, saying that the maximum permissible amount of blood a person could donate was


    800 ml.


    Mark narrowed his eyes and said sternly, "Don''t make me repeat myself. If anything happens to them, I


    will hold you responsible.”


    The nurse trembled and was too afraid to say otherwise. She lowered her head and drew 1,000ml of


    blood from Mark.


    There was little change in Mark''s expression. He rolled down the sleeve of his ck shirt and looked at


    the nurse. "Save Dean. Let me know if you need anything. Inform me if anything happens."


    Mark never liked owing someone else''s favors.


    Especially when it was from Dean, who was injured from saving Charlotte. He would do his best to


    save him.


    When Mark came out, Summer stood up by using the seat as support. She appeared pale but calm.


    "Do they need another blood transfusion? I am type-A blood,


    too.”


    "It is unnecessary for now. We will inform you when there is a need,” the doctor said.


    The doors of the operating theater were pushed open a s teams of doctors and nurses went in with


    serious-looking faces.


    Silence returned to the corridor outside the operating theater. They could hear each other’s breathing.


    Summer slumped back down on the bench, burying her face between her legs again. Her sleek


    shoulders trembled involuntarily.


    There had never been a moment where she felt so scared like now. This indescribable fear came from


    her bones.


    She could not imagine what her life would be like without Charlotte.


    Mark sat down on the bench, eyes on her. Her reflections were in his eyes. He felt sorry for her,


    wanting tofort her.


    So he reached out his arm, lifting her, who was curled up in a ball, on his strong, muscrp. "Don''t


    worry, Charlotte will be okay.”


    Summer tried to get away from his embrace. But when raised her hands, she found herself so helpless


    and frail, as if strength had left her body.


    "Put me down. I am fine." She spoke slowly, her voice weak.


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    "Just stay this way." Mark nced down at her, his voice extremely deep and cold, with an


    unquestionable tone, but there was still some gentleness in it.


    She stopped arguing with him but just quietly waited i n her current posture, asionally ncing over


    at the doors of the operating theater.


    Two hours had passed since then, and the doors of the operating theater had not opened yet.


    She tightened the clench of her hands on her sides, sinking her fingernails into the tender skin of her


    palms. But she did not feel the slightest pain.


    As time went by, Mark’s body stiffened like a stone. H e could never ease up for a moment. Anxiety and


    gloom, and more worries, shrouded his brows.


    He reached to undo a few buttons on his shirt. Otherwise, he could suffocate himself.


    Time was passing quietly, and every minute was a torment, the worst kind of mental torture.