Chapter 683
[ 537 words ]
Chapter 683:
He dressed quickly, adjusting the black tactical jacket around the rigid outline of the medical brace rather than trying to hide it. He paused, looking down at her, a small, curled shape under the thin blanket. In sleep, the tension was gone from her face, leaving a fragility that twisted something deep in his chest. The storm of rage and possession that had driven him all night ebbed, replaced by a quiet he couldn’t name.
He did not reach down with impossible tenderness. He did not smooth her hair with fingers that could barely close. Instead, he bent carefully and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, the only touch his injuries allowed.
Then he was gone.
Not through the window. Not by some impossible silent climb his broken body could not have managed. A soft click sounded from the corridor as the lock disengaged from the outside. Bell’s timing was exact. Jarrod slipped through the door into the empty hall, and a second later the latch settled back into place, leaving only the faint scent of cold air, mint, and gun oil behind him.
𝖨𝗻t𝘦𝗻𝘀𝘦 𝗋𝘰𝗆𝖺ոсe 𝘰ո 𝗴а𝗅𝗻𝗼𝘃еls.co𝗆
At precisely 0700 hours, a cheerful, brisk sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. It was followed by the jingle of keys and the metallic scrape of one being inserted into the lock.
Caroline jerked awake, then stopped halfway upright as pain flared along her ribs and forearm at once. She bit back a curse, cradling the injured arm against her stomach before forcing herself to move more carefully.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She grabbed her camouflage jacket from the floor with her uninjured hand and threw it over her shoulders, a pathetic attempt to look presentable.
The door swung open. Dr. Reed pushed a breakfast cart into the room, a professional, pleasant smile on her face.
Her eyes swept the room, taking in every detail in a single, practiced glance. She saw Caroline’s tangled hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, the slightly swollen, well-kissed look of her lips. She also saw the way Caroline held one arm close, the fresh stiffness in her posture, and the bandage that needed to be changed. Her eyebrow arched, just a fraction. But she said nothing.
“Morning,” she said brightly.
Caroline cleared her throat, her face burning. “Morning, Doctor.” She busied herself smoothing the horribly wrinkled blanket on the cot, a frantic, useless gesture to cover her guilt.
The movement pulled at the cut on her forearm. She hissed softly before she could stop herself.
Dr. Reed’s cheerful gaze sharpened. “That arm needs cleaning.”
“It’s fine.”
“That was not a question.”
And then, from the corner of the room, from the airline carrier hidden under a pile of blankets, came a soft, pathetic whimper.
Caroline froze. In the chaos of the night, she had completely forgotten to hide the dog somewhere better.
Dr. Reed’s cheerful demeanor vanished. Her gaze, suddenly sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, locked onto the carrier. She abandoned the breakfast cart and began to walk slowly toward it.
“That’s just… medical waste,” Caroline stammered, moving to intercept her. “I was bagging it up last night.”
Dr. Reed gave her a look that said, Do I look like an idiot? She brushed past Caroline and, with one swift motion, ripped the blanket off the carrier.
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