Chapter 24
Charlotte’s heart tightened as she watched the storm of emotions simmer beneath Georgia’s calm exterior.
Georgia pressed on, her voice trembling yet fierce. They stripped me of all dignity–made me crawl on the ground, bark like a mangy dog, spat filthy curses at me. But none of that compares to what I endured in prison. They tore my clothes off, locked me in a cage, and blasted my naked body with a high–pressure water gun. You want to know what that feels like? It’s a pain so raw it burns into your soul. Maya… she died because she tried to protect me. I owe her everything. That’s why I have to live–for her, and for the dreams she never got to see.”
Charlotte listened to Georgia’s broken, chaotic confession and felt the weight of years of anguish pour out. Secrets spilled from her lips like dark rivers.
Who was Maya? And what was this dream that tethered Georgia so tightly to her memory? Though Charlotte couldn’t name the details, she sensed that Maya’s importance eclipsed even Georgia’s own life.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the ward with a faint amber glow. Charlotte stood slowly and glanced at the bed where Georgia had finally succumbed to sleep.
Despite everything, Charlotte refused to believe Georgia was capable of murder.
Whispers from the call girls at the club came back to her–rumors cloaked in ignorance. They didn’t know Georgia. She’d surrendered her pride not for money, but for freedom.
Preston had taken that freedom with a fistful of cash. That sum was a chain binding Georgia tighter than any bars.
Night swallowed the city as Charlotte returned to Vetro Club. Entering her office, she was surprised to find Preston sitting in her chair, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Mr. Hill, who exactly are you talking about?” Charlotte asked, taken aback.
“Georgia. Where is she?”
Charlotte’s blood stirred with a flicker of anger at Preston’s tone, but she masked it carefully. “Georgia asked for leave
today.”
“Call her here,” Preston said, his voice cold and commanding. “Who gave her permission to take leave?”
Through clenched teeth, Charlotte answered, “Mr. Hill, Georgia is sick
“Do you have a problem with me?”
“No.” She forced calm into her voice. “Georgia fell ill last night at the staff dormitory. If I hadn’t checked on her, she could have died. She’s been running a fever for days. The doctor said she might not have made it to the hospital in time.”
Annoyance flickered in Preston’s eyes. So that was why he felt so unsettled. But he had rejected Georgia; why did she still
affect him?
A voice echoed in his mind, faint but firm–Luca’s words: “Georgia is our mate. If she dies, we weaken.”
Luca’s voice sounded fragile.
Preston paused, pondering silently before standing without a word and striding out of the office. Passing Charlotte, he asked sharply, “Which hospital?”
“Gabbs Community Hospital, Room 302.”
Charlotte watched his retreating figure and blurted, “Mr. Hill, I just came from there. When I left she had just fallen asleep.”
She meant to wam him not to disturb Georgia’s rest.
Tarrange the day’s work and bring her some food,” Charlotte added.
Preston shook his head. “You don’t need to go. I’ll send someone.”
Chapter 24
Charlotte’s face twisted with confusion as Preston disappeared around the corner.
Outside the club, Preston climbed into his car and made a call “Simon, get food suitable for patients and deliver it to Room 302 at Gabbs Community Hospital.”
“Who’s sick?” Simon asked, puzzled, Werewolves healed fast–hospital visits were rare.
“Don’t ask questions. Just do it,” Preston snapped. “Half an hour.”
“Fuck! Am I Superman? I don’t fly,” Simon muttered before hanging up
He threw on clothes and ran downstairs, placing an order for soup. “Yes, I’ll pick it up in fifteen minutes–hurry.”
After hanging up, he cursed Preston again, bewildered. Who’s sick? Even Preston’s worried.
Preston stepped into the ward Charlotte had secured for Georgia, a modest private room that earned a nod of approval from him. Charlotte had been thoughtful, though Preston hadn’t pushed for anything better.
He moved toward the bedside with long strides, eyes locking onto Georgia. The emotions churning inside him were tangled and raw.
Three years had transformed her beyond recognition.
Her once delicate features had hardened; her skin lost its youthful glow. Preston studied the face, still seeing faint traces of the woman he knew, but forever altered.
Swollen eyes, tangled brows, cracked lips, roughened skin….
Just three years.
Georgia shifted, her head turning slightly. As her bangs slipped aside, the scars on her forehead were revealed.
Preston’s gaze sharpened, brows knitting as he stared at the harsh marks. Without thinking, his hand reached out. The moment his fingers brushed the scar, Georgia startled awake.
Fear flickered in her eyes…
Why is he here? What does he want?
Preston’s expression darkened.
Why would she flinch? he thought, disbelief edging his anger.
He reached out again,
Abruptly, Georgia pulled the blanket tighter, burying herself beneath it.
