Chapter 69
Simon’s footsteps echoed with reluctant purpose as he stepped forward, annoyance flickering beneath his calm exterior Normally, such a simple task wouldn’t require his personal involvement; other doctors in the pack were more than capable But Preston had summoned him directly–an unspoken weight hung heavy in the air.
“Simon, wait a moment,” Preston said, his voice low but sharp. “Do you actually know how to do this?”
A flicker of uncertainty betrayed Simon’s confidence. His hand trembled slightly, and the needle missed the vein by a fraction. Preston’s face darkened immediately, the lines of imitation etching deeper. “If you can’t manage this, I’ll send someone else. Don’t push yourself beyond your limits.
Simon’s jaw clenched, irritation rising. “Enough of that. Preston, if I fail, I’ll hand you my resignation tomorrow and go home to help my father collect herbs. You’ll be rid of me.”
His words bore an edge of challenge, but beneath it lay a surge of pride and frustration. This wasn’t just a medical task; it was a test of his worth in Preston’s unforgiving pack.
“How could I not manage this?” Simon’s voice hardened. “Having me as your pack’s doctor is a bargain, not a burden. You should consider yourself lucky.”
Preston’s reply was flat, almost dismissive. “I’ll give you a raise.
Simon snapped back, voice quick and sharp, unable to restrain the accusation: “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? I healed your mate, and you’re trying to belittle me.”
The room chilled instantly, the tension thickening like a dense fog. Preston’s eyes narrowed, icy and unreadable.
“My n
“My mate?” he spat. “Who are you talking about?”
Simon immediately regretted his slip, but the coldness in Preston’s gaze silenced any protest. He glanced toward the sleeping figure curled on the sofa, her fragile
“Who else?” Simon sneered. “Georgia.”
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He stepped closer, voice low but venomous. “Preston, stop denying it. If she isn’t your mate, why do you care so much? She has a fever, and you act like it’s none of your business. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a softhearted man–since when did
you care?”
His words stabbed at the air, and Charlotte felt the prickling discomfort of being somewhere she didn’t belong.
“Mr. Hill, if there’s nothing else…” Charlotte’s voice barely rose above a whisper
Preston’s tone cut her off like a knife. “Georgia will stay here. Take care of her. When she wakes, tell her she fainted and that a nurse put her on a drip.”
Without waiting for a response, Preston grabbed Simon’s arm and dragged him toward the stairwell.
Simon struggled, shouting, “Let go! Preston, I’m warning you–if you don’t release me, I’ll fight back!”
Preston shoved him with a steely force. “You want to fight me? Go ahead.”
Simon’s bravado faltered under the weight of Preston’s fierce glare. “Hey, let’s talk this out,” he said, voice softer, trying to bridge the gap. “We’re from the same pack. There’s nothing we can’t talk about.”
Preston’s handsome face tightened into a mask of cold detachment. “Simon, you know exactly what happened between me and Georgia.”
The words hung like a command not to speak further.
“Then why do you care so much about her?” Simon pressed.
Preston’s eyes flashed with something dark and unreadable. “Even if it’s something I want to forget, before I let go, I decide who lives and who dies”
The merciless clarity in
his voice left Simon unsettled.
<Chapter 69
“So, Simon,” Preston said quietly, “do you understand me?”
wering, “Do you
Simon met Preston’s gaze, swallowing hard before answering, “Do you hate her that much?”
Preston’s voice dropped to a grim whisper. “She killed Giselle.”
That single statement silenced Simon utterly. No words came to challenge it.
“If you do something unforgivable,” Preston said with unyielding resolve. “you pay the price.”
Without another word, he turned and strode down the stairwell.
Outside, a sleek sports car waited. Preston slid into the driver’s seat, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he punched the accelerator. The vehicle roared forward, cutting through the night.
Through the mental link, Preston called Lorenzo, voice terse and clipped: “I’m on my way.”
His mood was dark, swirling with anger. Simon’s reckless words had ignited something fierce within him.
Georgia–his mate?
He had rejected her once. Whether she accepted it or not was irrelevant, their bond was severed.
He didn’t need a mate.
Yet why had he driven her to the hospital at midnight?
That question gnawed at him relentlessly as he sped through the city streets, eyes fixed on the road but thoughts
elsewhere.
The answer was troubling: he didn’t want to lose her.
‘Three years of punishment is too lenient for killing someone,‘ he thought bitterly as the car slowed near its destination.
At the warehouse door, Lorenzo stood waiting.
“Alpha Preston,” Lorenzo greeted curtly.
Preston stepped out, voice sharp. “Where is she?”
Lorenzo led him inside the cavernous building, the echo of their footsteps swallowed by the vast emptiness,
In a small, dimly lit room, Lorenzo pushed open a heavy door,
“She was unruly and loud.” Lorenzo reported in a low voice. “We had to gag her and tie her up.”
Preston entered without hesitation.
The girl inside was in a pitiful state, eyes wide and pleading as she looked up at him. Any man might have softened at the sight, but Preston’s face remained impassive, untouched by pity.
Without sitting, his fingers moved with quiet command.
Lorenzo understood immediately and stepped forward to remove the cloth from the girl’s mouth.
She coughed, raw and hoarse.
Lorenzo handed Preston a pair of black leather gloves.
Preston slipped them on with deliberate calm–an effortless gesture that somehow radiated a potent mixture of elegance
and menace.
