Chapter 553
Chapter 553:
“You’re burning up,” he murmured, his voice tight with sudden, sharp concern. His palm came to rest on her forehead. “You have a fever. You need to see a doctor.” His tone shifted from worry to command. “I’m taking you to the ER p>
For one fleeting, delirious moment, Isolde felt the pull of that warmth. It was a harbor she had once needed more than anything — safe, steady, familiar.
Then reality crashed back in, brutal and nauseating. That was the same hand that had touched Belle. Had held her. Had reached for her across years of betrayal. The thought landed like a fist in her stomach.
Her eyes snapped open, blazing with desperate fury. With a surge of pure adrenaline, she shoved him away.
“Don’t touch me p>
The force of it threw her off balance. Grayson stumbled back, but she was the one who fell, crumpling to the cold, hard floor in a heap.
Grayson went still, hands hovering in the air. He stared down at her, stunned. The look on her face wasn’t simply hatred or disgust. It was something deeper — something closer to primal revulsion.
Isolde gasped for air, her body trembling, every nerve screaming. “Stay away from me, Grayson,” she rasped. “Your concern makes me sick p>
𝗝oin 𝘁𝗁o𝘂𝘴а𝗇dѕ 𝗼𝖿 𝖿𝗮ns 𝗈𝗻
His hands dropped to his sides. A wave of something raw and unfamiliar moved through him — frustration, helplessness, wounded pride all tangled together. “I just don’t want you dying on my property,” he said, the words cold and sharp, a shield over everything underneath.
A short, humorless laugh escaped her. She pressed her palms against the floor and pushed herself upright with a defiant groan, swatting his offered hand away as she rose.
“Don’t worry,” she said, swaying slightly on her feet. “If I’m going to die, I’ll make sure to crawl off Lancaster territory first p>
She stood straight, chin high, refusing to show him another moment of weakness.
Grayson watched her, a muscle working in his jaw. The raw, jagged edge of her defiance cut somewhere he hadn’t expected.
“Do you have to be so sharp all the time p>
Isolde met his gaze. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears of rage and pain.
“Life taught me to be sharp,” she said, her voice low and precise. “Because the soft ones get eaten alive by people like you p>
Without another word, she pulled her coat tight around her trembling frame and pushed through the revolving door, disappearing into the biting wind of the night.
Grayson stood alone in the warm, brightly lit lobby, staring at the space where she had been. The cold from the open door seemed to settle over him and stay.
He looked slowly down at his hand — the one that had touched her forehead. He could still feel the searing heat of her skin against his palm.