Chapter 373
Chapter 373:
The chaotic stench of the hospital was instantly obliterated by a storm of rosemary and rain. Grant Blackwell strode into the room, flanked by two massive Blackstone Pack Warriors in dark suits. His golden eyes blazed with a lethal, predatory Lycan light.
He ignored the doctors, the nurses, and the staring wolves. He walked straight to me and pulled me against his hard chest — an undeniable, possessive claim. I collapsed against him, my trembling fingers gripping his lapels as he became my only anchor in a world that had just disintegrated.
“Leo,” Grant commanded, his deep voice vibrating against my cheek. “Use my clearance. I want every drop of O-negative blood from the Blackstone private reserves airlifted to this roof in ten minutes p>
“Yes, Alpha,” his Chief of Staff replied instantly, already barking orders into his phone.
𝘐n𝗌𝘁а𝗻𝘁 𝖺c𝖼еѕ𝘴 𝗈n gа𝘭ո𝘰vе𝘭𝗌.c𝗈𝘮
As Grant held me, stroking my hair to calm my frantic pulse, I felt his massive body go rigid. I looked up just in time to see him staring over my shoulder at Eleanor. It wasn’t merely a look of anger — it was a silent, absolute promise of destruction.
Eleanor shrank back against the wall, her face draining of all color, terrified into silence by the predator holding me.
Grant POV
The chaotic stench of the Mount Sinai ER — bleach, panic, and human blood — was suffocating, but I focused only on the trembling woman in my arms. Carmella clung to my lapels, her wolfless body wracked with silent, devastating sobs. I tightened my grip, my Lycan Inner Wolf snarling at the sight of her shattered state. I didn’t care who was watching. I didn’t care about the terrified whimper Eleanor Hawthorne let out as I glared at her.
I scooped Carmella up and carried her away from the trauma bay, straight toward the top-floor VIP lounge my security team had already secured.
As I walked, the sterile hospital lights flickered overhead — a stark contrast to the crystal chandeliers of the Ritz-Carlton grand ballroom just thirty minutes ago. I had been standing near a blue velvet podium in D.C., ten minutes from delivering a speech that would have secured my political empire for the next decade. Then Leo had approached, his face pale, whispering about the crash. About Carmella.
In a fraction of a second, the political donors and the champagne ceased to exist. “It’s political suicide, Alpha,” Leo had hissed, grabbing my arm as I ordered the chopper. I had turned to him and let my Lycan eyes bleed into a lethal, glowing gold. My rosemary and rain scent had spiked with pure, unadulterated killing intent. “If she sheds a single tear,” I had told him quietly, “I will burn Washington to the ground p>
The heavy doors of the soundproof VIP lounge sealed shut behind us. I laid Carmella gently onto the leather sofa. The emotional trauma of her father’s near-death and the brutal revelation of her adoption had driven her exhausted body into a deep, defensive sleep.
The door clicked open. Leo stepped inside, his Inner Wolf thoroughly subdued beneath the oppressive weight of my aura. He handed me an encrypted tablet.