Chapter 393
There were no words. Instead, a guttural, agonizing growl vibrated through the speaker. It wasn’t human — it was Ragnar, his inner wolf, trapped in a haze of excruciating pain. Beneath the growl, the cold, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor echoed in the background.
“Dallas, please,” I choked out.
A sharp groan of pure agony pierced the line. Then a frantic female voice — a nurse. “Sir, you can’t hold that! His vitals are crashing! Page Dr. Barber, now!” A scuffle followed, but just before the call disconnected, a raspy, breathless whisper pushed through the chaos.
“Addie…”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone. The crushing weight of my grief was instantly incinerated by a blazing, white-hot fury. He wasn’t in the North. He was dying in the Pack Medical Center, and Duncan was keeping me from him.
Before I could even stand, my cell phone vibrated. The caller ID flashed: Braydon Hyde.
I swiped to answer and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Adella,” Braydon’s smooth, sickeningly gentle voice slithered through the speaker. “I heard the terrible rumors. Is it true? Is Dallas missing?”
He was probing. He wanted to know if his twisted little game had worked.
I stood up, my spine snapping straight. The frightened, confused girl from ten minutes ago was gone. I channeled every ounce of the Luna authority I possessed, my voice dropping to a lethal, icy calm.
“I know exactly where my Mate is.”
The silence on the other end was deafening. When Braydon finally spoke, the fake warmth had vanished, replaced by a sharp edge. “Where?”
“Stay away from him, Braydon,” I commanded, letting the fierce, protective instincts of a Luna bleed through every word — proving I didn’t need an inner wolf to bare my teeth. “If I find out your scent is anywhere near this, I will personally ask my Mate to hunt you down like the Rogue you are.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. I didn’t care about Duncan’s lies or the Pack’s rules anymore. I grabbed my coat, my eyes locked on the bedroom door.
I was going to the hospital.
Adelia
The icy, torrential rain lashed against my skin as I shoved through the sliding glass doors of the Blackwood Medical Center. The sterile stench of bleach and polished linoleum hit my nose, doing nothing to mask the underlying scent of blood and panic that lingered in the air.
I sprinted straight for the brushed stainless-steel elevators reserved for the Alpha King and slammed my hand against the call button. The panel glowed an angry red. Locked.
Before I could try again, two massive Blackwood Pack warriors stepped into my path, their broad shoulders and intimidating auras forming an impenetrable wall.
“Move,” I ordered, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and rising authority.
“We can’t do that. You need Beta authorization to access the ICU floor,” the taller warrior stated, his face a blank mask.
“I am his Mate!” I snarled. “I am your future Luna. Let me pass!”
“Direct orders from the Alpha King, relayed by Beta Duncan and Gamma Vance,” the second warrior replied, his tone unyielding. “The floor is on total lockdown. You are a restricted threat.”