The Compass to His Heart

Third Person's POV

Halle Dolton had chased after Terence Bacchus for three years, only to end up tying a love knot for him and someone else.

The first time they met, the winds were fierce in Tanzania. He saved her from a poacher’s gun. She treated his gunshot wound.

“Don’t be scared, I’m the leader of Wildlife Conservation Team A,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I’m Halle Dolton, a doctor sent from Washington to aid Tanzania,” she replied.

Those were the first words they exchanged.

But the dream of love Halle had built was shattered by Terence himself.

Tired of chasing someone who didn’t care, she decided to let go. Yet after she left Tanzania, abandoning everything he had given her, he became the one unwilling to let go.

“It turns out the one who couldn’t live without the other… was me,” Terence murmured.

——

“Captain Howell, I want to apply for a transfer back to Washington,” Halle said.

The head leader, Cedric Howell, looked surprised. “Halle, have you talked to Captain Bacchus about this? You’re part of Team A, and he’s your direct supervisor. You’ll need his approval to leave.”

Would Terence disagree? Halle wasn’t so sure.

She turned her gaze to Terence, who lay unconscious in the hallway, hooked up to a blood transfusion. Seeing his sorry state, her expression turned solemn.

Half an hour earlier, Halle had faced the most critical situation of her time in Tanzania. Terence had just returned from a mission chasing poachers in the wilderness at an altitude of over 4,600 meters. He had been shot multiple times, with deep wounds across his shoulder and back, bleeding profusely. Now, he was unconscious.

However, aside from him, another person was carried back, too—Darlene Benson, the deputy leader of Zone A. She had been shot in the leg, her face pale from blood loss, and she was trembling from shock.

When Terence had regained consciousness and saw the latter, his trembling hand immediately grabbed Halle’s arm, leaving streaks of blood on her white coat.

“Take my blood for her,” he muttered weakly.

He was insane. His injuries were far worse than Darlene’s. If they drew blood from him now, he might not survive.

On that note, Halle firmly refused, “We can't do that.”

Unwilling to give up, Terence had turned to the medical staff nearby to insist on his request. As Halle did, they also frowned at him and tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn’t listen.

“Halle, this isn’t the time for stubbornness or jealousy. If something happens to Darlene, you’ll have to take responsibility for it,” Terence snapped.

His usually warm eyes were now cold and piercing as he glared at her, his tone sharp and unyielding. He was furious—for Darlene.

Just then, Darlene intervened and tugged lightly on Terence’s arm, signaling him to calm down. She had always been his anchor; no matter the situation, a simple gesture from her could soften him.

“Halle, don’t mind him,” Darlene said gently. “He’s just being reckless again. I’m sorry for the trouble he’s causing.”

Halle had shifted her gaze from Terence to Darlene, forcing a small, strained smile. “It’s fine. I’ve already arranged for blood to be sent from the supply station. It’ll arrive soon.”

Still, Terence wasn’t satisfied. His frustration had flared as he covered Darlene’s icy hand with his own.

“That’s not good enough. Her hands are freezing—it’s a sign of severe blood loss.” As Terence had said that, he had swiftly grabbed the syringe from Halle’s hand and drew his own blood, ignoring her protests.

However, as the needle was still in his arm, his body had given out. Yet before losing consciousness completely, he mumbled, “We’re both type A. She can use my blood.” After that, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, but his hand never let go of Halle’s arm.

For the first time, the calm and composed Terence revealed a fragile side, his face etched with worry and vulnerability.

They were a perfect match—in dreams, in their hometowns, and even in blood type.

With that thought in mind, Halle’s fists clenched tightly, her pale knuckles and the crescent-shaped indentations on her palms betraying her inner turmoil.