Chapter 12
Wesley Hawthorne stared at Serena Whitmore for a long moment before finally letting go of her wrist. A cold smirk tugged at his lips.
“You didn’t even notice you’re burning up?”
His thumb brushed her forehead–her skin was scalding
Only then did the dizziness hit her in full. Her vision swam, Wesley’s figure doubling before her eyes. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
He caught her wrist again, this time more gently. “Don’t move.”
His tone was still sharp, but the grip had softened.
The car started again, this time heading straight for St. Claire Medical Center.
Serena slumped against the seat, her consciousness beginning to blur. She vaguely heard Wesley making a call.
“…Get fever reducers and an IV ready. We’re on our way.”
Outside, the neon lights smeared across the windows in long, watery streaks. Her mind drifted back to that rainy night from a lifetime ago. She remembered lying in a pool of her own blood, trembling, with Wesley’s arms around her, his voice shaking as he called her name
“Serena?”
His voice pulled her back.
The car had stopped. Wesley was already out, standing beside her door with a frown.
“Can you walk?”
She tried to nod, to say she was fine but the moment she moved, her knees buckled and her vision blacked out.
In the next instant, she was in his arms.
“Such a pain,” Wesley muttered, but his arms tightened protectively around her..
In the VIP ward, the doctor finished his exam and adjusted his glasses.
“Her temperature’s hit 103.1°F. She’ll need to stay overnight for monitoring.” He hesitated. “Also…
He glanced at Wesley, then led him into the hallway.
“There are fresh needle marks on Ms. Whitmore’s arm,” the doctor said in a low voice. “From their angle and depth, it looks like her blood was forcibly drawn. And she has multiple recent bruises and soft tissue injuries. None of it looks accidental.
Wesley’s expression went ice–cold.
Back inside, Serena lay semi–conscious, her face unnaturally flushed. A nurse was setting up the IV. When the needle pierced her skin,
Inched
Wesley stood at the bedside, eyes fixed on her arm Beyond the new puncture were several older scratches, half–healed. As if someone had pinned her down and dragged her over a rough surface.
His knucides cracked
In her fevered sleep, Serena murmured, “Julian why
Wesley’s jaw tightened
He turned to leave but a burning–hot hand grasped his.
Wesley.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t go ”
He stopped.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains, glinting off the sweat on her forehead. He stood motionless for a long time, then finally sat down in the chair beside her bed.
In her dreams, she was back in her past life.
Julian Blackwell passed her by with Evangeline Hart in his arms, not even glancing in her direction.
Miles Carrington, Grayson Hale, and Declan Price offered hollow condolences while mocking her behind her back.
Then came the car crash–blood pooling beneath her as the four of them stood across the street and watched coldly.
“No.” she whimpered, twisting in the sheets. “Don’t…”
A cool hand touched her cheek.
‘Serena‘
The voice was low and steady, pulling her out of the nightmare.
Her eyes flew open. Wesley’s face was close–his features sharp in the early light, the faint shadows under his eyes betraying a sleepless night
“You…” Her voice cracked with dryness.
Wesley drew back, his usual distance returning. “The fever’s broken.”
She looked down–there was IV tape on her hand, an empty bottle hanging on the stand, and a glass of warm water on the nightstand. Her eyes stung unexpectedly.
In ber
past life, when she’d been at her sickest, Jullan hadn’t even texted her he’d been too busy fawning over Evangeline.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Wesley was adjusting his cufflinks. At her words, he paused.
“No need,” he said, not ipoking at her. “As long as we’re engaged, it’s my job to keep you alive.”
She smiled faintly, seeing right through him.
Her eyes fell on his suit jacket–tossed carelessly on the couch, still wrinkled where she’d clutched it.
“I had a good dream,” she said suddenly. “Everyone left me.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “That’s your idea of a good dream? Fever must’ve fried your brain.”
She chuckled, the sound soft. “But you came,”
The air stilled
For a moment, something flickered acros
10
Wesley’s face–but it was gone as quickly as it came. He grabbed his jacket and headed for
the door Just as he reached for the handle, he stopped.
He didn’t turn around
Those in
injuries. Where did they come from?”
She looked down, her fingers brushing the fading needle marks on her armi.
“III said.” She looked up, her smile brittle. “If I said Julian took my blood for Evangeline would you believe me?” Wesley froze
