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Chapter 461
Chapter 461:
“June?” Easton’s voice came through the speaker. He heard her ragged, hyperventilating breaths instantly. “What’s wrong p>
“Easton… please,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. “Help me… Snowball… he’s dying p>
The charming, flirtatious lawyer vanished in an instant.
“Do not move. I am coming,” Easton commanded. His voice was a block of solid ice — calm, authoritative, and absolutely reliable.
In what felt like an impossibly short five minutes, the screech of tires echoed from the street below. Easton had driven the Porsche directly onto the pedestrian walkway in front of the building. He didn’t cut the engine. He sprinted through the lobby, hammering the elevator call button, his jaw clenched tight as the car carried him up to the penthouse floor.
He burst through the open apartment door.
June was on the floor, weeping over the convulsing animal.
Easton did not waste a single second. He stripped off his expensive suit jacket and dropped to his knees, gently but firmly wrapping the jacket around the rabbit to secure his thrashing limbs. He stood, cradling the bundled animal against his left arm, then reached down with his right hand and took hold of June’s freezing, trembling fingers, pulling her up from the floor.
“I already called the Manhattan Veterinary Emergency Center,” he said, his voice cutting through her panic like a beacon. “The Chief of Toxicology is waiting for us at the loading dock. Let’s go p>
He did not let go of her hand.
In the darkest, most terrifying moment of her new life, Easton Hahn had smashed through her final emotional wall — transforming, in a single breath, from a suitor into her absolute savior.
𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗼𝗻
The black Porsche Panamera tore through the empty Manhattan streets and slammed to a violent halt beneath the brightly lit emergency awning of the Manhattan Veterinary Emergency Center. The tires shrieked against the wet pavement, leaving thick black streaks.
Easton did not turn off the engine. He did not pull the keys from the ignition.
He kicked his door open, held the violently convulsing white rabbit tightly against his chest, and strode toward the entrance — completely ignoring the toxic foam soaking into his expensive, custom-tailored jacket.
He reached the heavy glass doors and forced them open with his shoulder.
June stumbled out of the passenger side. Her face was the color of chalk and her legs were shaking so badly she could barely stand. Her high heels slipped on the polished marble floor of the lobby, and her knees buckled.
Easton moved with terrifying speed. He freed his right hand and caught her firmly around the waist, pulling her flush against his side, his arm bearing her full weight as he guided her into the bright lights of the lobby.
The Chief of Toxicology was already waiting. He rushed forward with two veterinary nurses and a stainless-steel emergency cart.
Easton placed the twitching rabbit onto the cold metal surface.
“Neurotoxin exposure,” he said. His voice was a low, absolute command that left no room for hesitation. “Use whatever you need. The cost is irrelevant p>