Page 44 of Savage Obsession

My pulse roars in my ears as I tilt her head slightly, trying to understand what is happening. That is when I notice a faint red mark on the side of her neck and a half-filled syringe. Someone clearly dropped it in a hurry.

Poison-definitely poison.

The realization hits me like a freight train. Rage ignites in my veins, molten and deadly. Whoever did this is still in this house. Still breathing when they shouldn’t be.

Leon, ever my shadow, appears at my side, his expression darkening the moment he sees her. “What the hell happened?”

I lift her into my arms, my grip tight, unyielding. “Secure the premises. Find out who did this,” I growl, my voice like steel. “And bring them to me.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate. He nods once before disappearing down the hallway, already barking orders.

I turn, cradling Yelena against my chest as I move toward the exit, my entire world narrowing down to the fragile weight in my arms. She’s still breathing, but barely.

I swear on my life, whoever touched her—whoever dared to harm her will beg for death by the time I’m through with them.

And I won’t be merciful.

The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only sound filling the sterile white hospital room, a rhythmic reminder that Yelena is still breathing. That she’s still here. But the sight of her lying motionless, her porcelain skin pale against the stark sheets, makes something primal and violent claw at my insides.

I sit in the chair beside her bed, my elbows braced on my knees, hands clenched so tightly my knuckles turn white. I’ve stared at her since we got here, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest, willing her to wake up. But she doesn’t.

The fear that I could have lost her gnaws at me, an unbearable weight that threatens to suffocate me. I was seconds away from losing her. If I had been a moment too late, she wouldn’t behere. She’d be gone, her body growing cold while I be left to hunt down the bastard who did this.

My jaw clenches as I think about what the doctors told me—the poison used on her wasn’t some common street toxin. It is slow-acting, excruciatingly painful, designed to paralyze before shutting down the body's systems. Whoever did this didn’t just want her dead. They wanted her to suffer.

A deep, guttural rage bubbles inside me. My hands flex, the need to break something—or someone—thrumming through my veins.

I scrub a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. I can still see it. The way I had found her, crumpled on the cold marble bathroom floor at the dinner party, her skin clammy, her breathing faint. The sheer terror that had bolted through my body as I scooped her up, shouting for Leon to call an ambulance.

I wasn’t used to feeling powerless. I don’t do powerless. But watching her fight for every breath in that moment had stripped me bare, had shattered something inside me that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put back together.

A part of me is locked in that moment. Reliving it and wondering what the other outcome would have meant.

I lean forward, resting my forehead against her hand, inhaling her scent—faint now, masked by the sterile smell of the hospital.

“Wake up,agápi mou,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “I swear to you, I’m going to find the bastard who did this. And when I do, they will pay slowly and painfully.”

The only response is the soft hum of machines and the low murmur of the nurses outside the door.

I lift my head and study her face. Even unconscious, she looks fierce. Strong. Alive.

And I will not let that change.

A sharp knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

The doctor steps inside, his expression grim. “We found something,” he says, his voice low but firm. "The toxicologist will be with us shortly.

I stand immediately, my body wired with tension. “What did you find?”

He glances at Yelena briefly before returning his focus to me. “We got the lab results back. The content of the syringe is lethal rattlesnake venom. But it’s not just that. This was mixed with a stabilizing agent to make the effects last longer, ensure slow paralysis.”

My fists tighten. So this wasn’t just an assassination attempt. It was meant to be a message.

I shudder at the thought of what would have happened if I hadn’t gone looking for her when I did. My gut had screamed at me that something was wrong. The moment she didn’t return, I should have found her sooner. The thought rips through me like a dull blade, carving out guilt with every second that ticks by.

A little too late. Just a few minutes too late.

But even that stroke of luck had given us a chance. The syringe her attacker dropped had given the doctors a quick lead. Rattlesnake venom. The sick bastard had used a refined version, milked and weaponized. Yelena had woken briefly, just for a moment, but the agony had been unbearable.

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