Chapter 398
As the heavy steel doors began to slide shut, I caught a final, terrifying glimpse of the hallway through the narrowing gap. Anya had abandoned her medication cart. She was standing perfectly still in the middle of the corridor, pulling a thick black burner phone from her pocket.
The doors clanged shut with a deafening thud, sealing me inside.
The red digital numbers above the door ticked upward. 2… 3… 4… The mechanical groan of the ascending elevator vibrated through the soles of my shoes. I leaned against the cold steel wall, clutching the forged consent forms, convinced I had slipped through the cracks of Braydon’s defenses. I believed I was racing toward my mate — toward the truth that would save us both.
I had no idea that Anya’s encrypted message had already reached Braydon Hyde.
The dove is in the cage. Ascending.
18… 19… 20… The numbers continued to climb. I closed my eyes and prayed to the Moon Goddess, completely unaware that I was riding straight into a trap.
The heavy steel doors of the freight elevator slid open with a soft chime. I stepped out onto the twenty-second floor, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The VIP wing was eerily silent, the floor covered in thick, sound-absorbing beige carpet. Beneath the sterile scent of hospital bleach, I caught it — the faint, stormy trace of rain and cedar.
Dallas.
He was so close. His scent was weak, laced with the metallic tang of blood and trauma, but it was undeniably him. I tightened my grip on the forged clipboard and took a step toward Room 2201.
Before I could take another, a figure darted out from an intersecting corridor, blocking my path.
Nurse Anya.
Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving as if she had been running. “Adella! Thank the Moon Goddess you’re here,” she gasped, her voice trembling with manufactured panic. “It’s Alpha Marcus Hyde. He’s in Family Consultation Room B.”
I froze, my blood running cold. “What?”
“He’s trying to discharge Luna Victoria against medical advice,” Anya pleaded, grabbing my forearm. “He’s unhinged — screaming at the staff. She’s too weak to be moved. Please, as the future Luna, you have to stop him. He might listen to you.”
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to ignore her, to run to Dallas’s room before my five-minute window closed. But the thought of Marcus — Braydon’s notoriously volatile father — dragging a critically ill Victoria out of the hospital paralyzed me. She was the woman who had raised me, however flawed that upbringing had been.
“Show me,” I said, the words tasting like ash.
Anya didn’t hesitate. She led me swiftly down the hall and pushed open the heavy solid-wood door of Consultation Room B. I rushed inside, every nerve on high alert.
“Marcus, you can’t—”
The words died in my throat.
The room was a small, windowless box. There was no Marcus. Victoria was slumped in a plush armchair in the corner, her chest rising and falling in the deep, unnatural rhythm of heavy sedation.
Click.
The sound of the electronic lock engaging was deafening. I spun around and lunged for the handle, yanking it with every ounce of strength I had. It didn’t budge.