Page 27 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

Horror pounded through me. I gathered her up into my arms, laying her in the back seat. My voice was low as I said, “You’re going to be all right, Lina.”

I closed the back door. Then, unbuckling Chuck’s seatbelt, I gently hefted him over into the passenger seat, fastening him in, before running to the other side of the car, still pointing my gun at the gunman who hadn’t ventured out of the van again. I climbed into the driver’s seat.

Silently, I prayed that the car would start. Otherwise, I was going for the gunman again—for his van. As I turned the key, the engine roared to life. In a moment, I revved the engine and careened down the road, urgency pounding through me. I needed to get Lina to a hospital with a shifter unit.

We were in Queens, and the nearest hospital with one was in Elmhurst. The fifteen-minute drive was one of the longest of my life. I couldn’t see Lina’s face from here in the front and had to content myself with forcing words out of my mouth, “Keep the pressure on. We’re not far now. We’re almost there, Lina.” But then, as I glanced in the rear-view mirror, I saw that her arm had fallen away from her shoulder, dangling in the footwell. Panic thumped through me.

I glanced at Chuck, whose chin was slumped on his chest, still out cold. The iron tang of his wound filled the air. I swallowed hard, fighting the growing sense of urgency threatening to steal my concentration from the road, forcing myself to concentrate.

I screeched to a halt outside the hospital, bursting from the car before I even shut off the engine. I bundled Lina into my arms, her frame suddenly feeling so fragile as I lurched toward the shifter ward. There was a medic out front, looking toward us, and I yelled, “We’ve been in a crash. Can you help the man over there?”

The medic ran toward Chuck, and I hurried into the shifter entrance of the hospital, the air laden with antiseptic and a faint hint of herbs.

A sharp-eyed nurse met me, her movements brisk and efficient. “We need to get her on the table, now!” she directed, guiding me through the sterile corridor illuminated by fluorescent lights that buzzed in the silence.

“Lay her down here,” a shifter doctor said as I approached the surgical room, urgency saturating her tone.

“She was shot! She’s burning up!” I blurted out, breathless with urgency.

“Sounds like wolfsbane bullets,” the nurse interjected, her eyes flickering back to me before her focus returned to Lina. Her words blasted through me like ice—Wolfsbane was a manufactured poison that could be lethal to us shifters.

In a moment, the doctor ordered, “I need the room clear.”

“Please! Let me stay with her!” I protested, but the nurse’s firm hand on my shoulder steered me away. Sometimes, the shifter doctors and medical staff in these infirmaries were more like the healers of old, letting loved ones stay with patients, but more often than not, they were like human doctors, and I was ushered out of the room while the doctor removed the bullet.

As I looked back, the doctor was already working with quick, methodical precision, cutting away her blazer and shirt, revealing her soft skin marred by blood and the wound that still oozed crimson. A leaden weight settled in my chest.

My lungs seemed to burn as the nurse closed the door. Time felt suspended, and the sting of antiseptic mingled with the one at the back of my throat as I waited and waited.

After what felt like hours, the nurse returned, her face a mask of professionalism softened by a hint of empathy. “The antidote’s working.”

A wave of relief crashed over me, making my heart feel too big for my chest. “Thank you!” Before I knew what I was doing, I’d seized the nurse’s hands, squeezing them as gratitude colored my voice again. “Thank you.”

She nodded, her expression compassionate. I had no further words as the torrent of what could have been swirled in my mind as I let go of the nurse’s hands.

After the doctor had left, I sat by Lina’s bedside, her soft breaths mingling with the beeping of machines. I felt immense gratitude rush through my veins as the sound of her breaths and the sight of her chest rising and falling ever so slightly centered me in a way I’d never known before. The overwhelming realization of how much Lina meant to me confronted me. My chest felt too full, and I knew that Lina had nestled even more fully into my life—and heart—than I’d been willing to admit until now…Until I’d almost lost her.

Just the thought had me laying my hand on her arm again, needing the feel of her soft skin and her warmth to soothe my edgy wolf.

The nurse had stayed behind and was cleaning and dressing the wounds on my face and neck where the glass had cut me. The distinct antiseptic smell filled my lungs, and despite the sting and burn of some of the deeper wounds, I felt only immense gratitude.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor behind me, and I stood up. Something about the heavy tread told me it wasn’t the doctor’s gentler footfalls. My hand fell from Lina’s arm.

The door opened, and Magnus stepped inside. His expression was tight, clearly annoyed. “I received a call from the hospital, Stephen, telling me Chuck and Lina had been admitted to the hospital.” His voice was sharp.

I realized in my absent-mindedness, as my thoughts had been too full of worry about Lina, I’d forgotten to phone him.

My father’s clipped tone turned to the nurse. “Leave us,” he commanded.

Unwisely, the nurse said, “I still need to treat some of these—”

Magnus interrupted, “My son will be fine. Leave us,” he ordered, his tone becoming a growl.

“It’s fine. Thanks,” I said to the nurse, although I knew some of my wounds still had glass in them, their prickling feeling telling me they did still need tending to. She left the metal dish, tweezers, and antiseptic wipes she’d been using. At least I could tend to them myself.

As soon as the nurse had exited, Magnus launched into his lecture. “Your attackers were members of the shadow company. The van was traced back to a leased deal through a company name we’ve linked to them previously,” he informed me.

Shock spilled through me. So far, I’d only ever felt secretly pleased with the shadow company that had picked away at Blackthorn Corporation and sabotaged my father’s dealings. I’d always felt like I had a secret ally working away at ruining him, too, as if our goals aligned. But now, with what the shadow company had done to Lina, now that they’d almost taken her from me, hatred for that organization burned through me.

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