Chapter 199
Chapter 199:
Cole grabbed the doctor by the lapels of his white coat. “What do you mean there is no antidote? Fix her p>
“Please, calm down,” the doctor said firmly. “The drug must metabolize on its own. We are administering IV fluids, but she is suffering from extreme hyperthermia. Physical cooling is critical for her to survive the next few hours p>
Cole released him and pushed into the VIP room.
June was on the hospital bed, her wrists in thick medical restraints to prevent her from injuring herself. Her skin was flushed an alarming, unnatural red. She was thrashing against the straps, gasping for air.
The sight of her broke something in Cole’s chest.
He removed his wet jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out with both large, cold hands, intending to press them against her burning forehead.
“June, it’s all right. I’m here,” he whispered, his voice stripped of its usual control.
The instant his fingers grazed her skin, June’s body convulsed. Her eyes flew open through the toxic fog, and she found his face.
𝗠оѕt 𝗿e𝖺𝖽 t𝗁i𝘴 𝗐е𝗲𝗄 𝗼𝘯
There was no relief in her expression. No recognition of safety. Only a profound, visceral revulsion.
“Get out,” she rasped, her voice wrecked but the hatred in it absolute. “Don’t touch me — not with the same hands you use to touch Alycia p>
The words hit him like a blow across the face. His entire body went still.
“I am your husband. You are burning up. Let me help you,” he said, his voice climbing with panic. He reached for her again.
The threat of his touch sent a surge of adrenaline through her system. With a desperate, wrenching twist, June angled her arm sharply against the restraint. The buckle, insufficiently secured, struck the bed rail at an odd angle and snapped open under the pressure. Her free hand swept blindly across the bedside table and connected with the heavy glass water pitcher.
It hit the tile floor and exploded into jagged fragments.
June’s hand dropped off the bed. She seized the largest shard and brought it directly to her own throat, pressing the broken edge against her carotid artery.
“If you take one more step toward me,” she breathed, her eyes wide and burning with absolute resolve, “I will end it right here p>
The edge parted the skin. A thin line of bright red blood welled up and traced a path down her neck.
The triage nurse who had just entered froze for a fraction of a second, then quietly pressed the silent alarm on her belt and began easing backward out of the room.
Cole stopped breathing.
He stared at the blood on her throat. His ego, his need for control, his territorial rage — all of it evaporated in an instant, obliterated by a single, shattering truth: she would rather die than let him touch her.
“Okay,” he said. His voice was barely audible. His hands rose slowly into the air, trembling. “Okay. I’m backing away. I won’t touch you p>