Chapter 397

I pulled my crimson trench coat tighter around myself, shivering as the freezing mist clung to my skin. Every second that passed was another second Dallas’s inner wolf, Ragnar, spent tearing himself apart from the agony of a betrayal he believed was real. I had to reach him.

I had to make him see the truth.

A shadow detached itself from the narrow alley between two dumpsters. Dr. Liam Barber stepped into the pale morning light, his face drawn and exhausted. He didn’t waste time with greetings. He shoved a plastic bag into my hands, followed by a heavy clipboard.

“Teal scrubs. Put them on over your clothes,” Liam instructed, his voice a low, urgent rasp. “On the clipboard are forged medical consent forms for Luna Victoria Hyde. If anyone stops you, you are a family proxy here to sign off on her specialized care. It’s your only alibi.”

I gripped the clipboard, the weight of the lie grounding me. “And Duncan and Vance?”

“They haven’t left the ICU doors on the twenty-second floor,” Liam said, checking his watch. “In exactly three minutes, I will mind-link them. I’ll fabricate a critical security breach regarding the Pack’s medical billing — something that requires their immediate, in-person Alpha-command authorization on the ground floor. They will leave their posts.” He handed me a blank white keycard. “Take the freight elevator straight up. Room 2201. You’ll have a five-minute window before they realize the alert is false.” His eyes darkened with a grave warning. “And watch out for Nurse Anya. If she spots you, Braydon will know.”

“Thank you, Liam,” I whispered, stripping off my coat and pulling the sterile scrubs over my clothes.

“Save our King,” he replied simply, before melting back into the shadows.

I drew a slow breath, forcing my racing heart to steady, and pushed through the heavy metal service doors into the hospital.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the basement corridor blinded me for a moment. The air was suffocatingly clinical. I kept my head down, clutching the clipboard to my chest like a shield, and walked briskly toward the freight elevator at the end of the hall.

Just as I rounded the final corner, the squeak of rubber wheels echoed against the linoleum. A nurse pushing a stainless-steel medication cart emerged from an intersecting hallway.

My breath caught. Pinned to her scrub top was a small engraved nametag: Anya.

I kept my pace even and stared straight ahead. As we passed each other, I felt the heavy weight of her gaze. From the corner of my eye, I saw her dark eyes flick over my face, then down to the clipboard in my hands. It wasn’t a passing glance — it was a sharp, calculated assessment. A shiver of pure ice slid down my spine, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I reached the freight elevator, swiped the white keycard, and practically dove inside the cramped metallic box. The air smelled sharply of ammonia. I stabbed the button for the twenty-second floor.