Chapter 288: Tasha Moore, aren't you oversimplifying things?

Samuel Johnson stood at the entrance of the tent, gazing into the darkness of the distant forest and nodded slightly.

Where was she now?

Was she still alive?

What feelings did she have, facing this situation?

Did she know so many people were worried about her, that they were coming to rescue her?

Samuel Johnson stared blankly into the continuous curtain of rain; the hollow space in his heart began to ache forcefully.

He remembered the last time they met, how he had, as always, humiliated her while she remained silent. If possible, he wished he had been kinder to her, just a little bit. Now, when he recalled it, maybe he wouldn't have such regrets.

Because that meeting might have been their last.

At this thought, Samuel's heart felt as if it had been viciously twisted by a hand, causing him to furrow his brows in pain. To this inexplicable agony, he seemed to have grown accustomed.