Chapter 291
[ 464 words ]
Chapter 291:
Dr. Evans’s face turned a blotchy red. He opened his mouth to retort, but Brenna shut him down instantly. “Say one more word, and I’ll file a formal harassment complaint with HR. I’m sure your father would love to hear all about it.”
The corridor fell dead silent. Several other nurses pretended to read charts intensely, terrified of Brenna’s sudden, explosive outburst.
Brenna glared at them both for another second, then grabbed Julian’s arm. “Let’s go.” She stormed off, leaving the gossips thoroughly humiliated and speechless.
She pulled Julian into an empty supply closet and finally let out a frustrated sob, leaning her forehead against his chest. “I hate them,” she choked out. “I hate that she’s hurting and I can’t help her, and they’re just… circling like vultures.”
Julian held her tight, his own resolve hardening. He was now more convinced than ever that Caroline was in serious trouble and that they, as her friends, had a duty to intervene.
𝖣i𝘴𝘤o𝘷𝖾𝗿 𝗻𝖾w 𝗌𝘵𝗼𝗋іеѕ оn 𝘨𝗮l𝗻𝗈𝘃𝘦𝘭𝘀.co𝘮
The cold autumn wind swept violently through the concrete parking deck. It rustled Caroline’s thin jacket as she waited for K.C., her body trembling from a mixture of cold, exhaustion, and raw fear.
The silence was absolute. She checked the encrypted phone again. The screen was black, dead, offering no comfort. No signal. No word.
She shoved it back into her pocket, a hollow ache spreading through her chest. Was he okay? Was he even alive? The not-knowing was a unique form of torture, a slow, grinding terror that frayed her nerves raw.
The massive, familiar black armored SUV glided smoothly around the concrete corner and came to a halt in front of her. K.C. Bell got out and opened the rear door without a word, his face an unreadable mask.
She climbed inside, the heavy door thudding shut behind her, sealing her in a cocoon of silence and rich leather. The drive back to the penthouse was conducted in the same heavy silence.
Once inside the vast, empty apartment, the loneliness became a physical presence. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking city skyline, but all Caroline saw was a cold, indifferent world.
She walked through the minimalist living room, her footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the way the space felt when Jarrod was there, filling it with his powerful, demanding energy.
She found herself in his walk-in closet, surrounded by his things. Racks of perfectly tailored suits, rows of polished combat boots, and the faint, lingering scent of cedar and gunpowder that was uniquely his.
She reached out and ran her fingers over the sleeve of a tactical jacket, the rough material a familiar comfort. A wave of memory washed over her: his hands on her, his voice in her ear, the sheer, undeniable security of his arms around her.
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