Chapter 65
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Simon’s thoughts drifted back sharply to the harsh words he had thrown at Georgia earlier that day. He had told her she’d let him down, that she was no longer the woman he once knew. Regret now gnawed at him, fierce and unrelenting. He was not the one who had suffered. Not truly.
His voice softened, carrying the weight of an apology unspoken. “When I saw her before, she didn’t seem this bad. I don’t know why she fainted again just now, but you need to take her to the hospital–immediately. She’s been through hell: drowning, fever, passing out… Even the healthiest werewolves would struggle with all that. Georgia’s different. She’s lost her wolf. She’s far more fragile than any human you’ve ever known.”
Preston’s reply was terse but resolute. “Alright. I’ll drive her there now.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there,” Simon responded, his voice heavy with concern.
They disconnected the call almost simultaneously.
Standing over the bed, Preston’s eyes fixed on the delicate form of the woman who barely resembled the fierce Georgia he’d once known. Simon’s warning echoed relentlessly in his mind: Don’t you know your attitude toward Georgia and the willingness you show have determined her fate these past three years?
Is he right? Preston pondered bitterly. Yes. He knew it to be true. Yet the sight of that gruesome scar carved deep into her skin twisted something dark and violent inside him–a raw, primal fury that screamed to tear someone apart.
His emotions churned in a storm of anger, guilt, confusion. Bending over her, he carefully smoothed her shirt, his fingers lingering on her fragile frame. Then he pulled a heavy tweed coat from the closet and draped it over her with tender precision, as if shielding her from the cold cruelty of the world.
Only then did Preston truly see how much Georgia had withered away. The softness and fullness she once had were gone, replaced by a thinness that spoke of starvation–not just of the body, but of the soul.
He cradled her in his arms, recalling how whe Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! carried her like a burden, yet one he bore willingly. The elevator hummed softly, descending to the first floor as Preston navigated the dim, luxurious lobby of the club. Eyes followed them–some full of envy, others burning with undisguised curiosity.
When the hospital ward came into view, Simon had already finished his examination.
“Not terrible, but you need to stop torturing her,” Simon said blugtly, shaking his head. “She’s had a long, brutal day. Drowning, fever, passing out… and now she faints again–right after waking. That’s on you, Preston.”
Simon’s sarcasm was sharp, but Preston said nothing. Simon thought, He’s oddly calm today.
“What did you do to her after I left?” Simon pressed.
Preston’s cold glance sent a shiver down Simon’s spine. He swallowed and added, “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about
it.”
Preston’s icy demeanor deepened. “Simon, you can go now,”
Simon’s voice was thick with frustration. “I’m just a come–and–go person at your beck and call, huh? You toss me out when I’m no longer useful. Preston, you’re the most heartless man I’ve ever met.”
Preston exhaled slowly, his voice low and steady. “Get some rest. Someone from the pack will be here tomorrow. You won’t have much downtime.”
The world outside saw Preston as arrogant and domineering. But within the pack, those who knew him understood his gentleness–quiet, nearly imperceptible, but there.
Simon’s gaze flicked to Georgia lying on the bed, and a suspicion gnawed at him. Could she be the reason for Preston’s unusual softness?
He hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Preston asked sharply.
“Stop picking on her,” Simon said quietly, locking his doubts away
< Chapter 65
He knew Preston too well. Preston was fiercely proud. If Simon voiced his suspicions–that Preston had feelings for
Georgia, that no matter how much he denied it, he couldn’t reject the mate the Moon Goddess had arranged–it would only bring more pain to Georgia.
And if Preston ever realized he had fallen in love with Georgia, and that he had let her rot in hell for three years, could he bear the quilt?
No, Simon thought. No, he couldn’t.
Still, Simon hoped he was wrong. After all, Preston claimed to have rejected her. And without her wolf, Georgia would never be accepted as Luna by the Dark Spike Pack.
“Stop hurting her. If she has to endure this a few more times, don’t bother bringing her to the hospital again. Not even the Moon Goddess could save her then. If you hate her so much that you must torture her, at least keep her alive and healthy.”
Simon paused, feeling he had said enough. He waved a hand. “I’m leaving.”
After Simon left, a strange silence settled over the hospital ward–a silence that was not the peaceful solitude of a quiet night at home, but a hollow, eérie quiet that gnawed at Preston’s insides.
He sank into a chair beside the bed, eyes fixed on Georgia’s forehead. Though strands of her bangs shielded the injury, he could still see its harsh outline.
Simon said it’s a fresh wound, from the last few days… but she’s been hurt in the same spot before. That wound is old.
Preston recalled every time he saw her at the Vetro Club, how she always shielded that side of her forehead with those stubborn bangs.
Why she clung to that ugly hairstyle had always baffled him.
He’d thought maybe it was a prison rule–something ingrained during her time in that werewolf prison, something Georgia had simply learned to live with.
Gently, Preston swept her hair aside, exposing the full extent of the scar.
Simon’s words rang in his ears: How on earth could any woman endure such a scar on her face?
He refrained from touching the wound itself, instead letting his fingers trace her face carefully, memorizing every inch of skin.
Under his fingertips, her skin felt rough and worn, weathered far beyond her mere twenties. Every mark on her body was a testament to the relentless passage of time and torment.
