Chapter 73
reston’s eyes flickered toward Georgia, who lay motionless on the worn sofa, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths. He did not respond to Charlotte’s quiet question, Without hesitation, he bent down and lifted Georgia from the couch with a deliberate strength, cradling her fragile form against his chest. His gaze flicked to Lorenzo, who immediately moved to retrieve the infusion bag dangling from a makeshift iron shelf nearby.
“Mr. Hill, where are you taking Georgia?” Charlotte hurried after him, her voice trembling as she caught up, stepping into the narrow doorway and planting both hands firmly to block his path.
Preston’s gaze dropped to meet hers, cold and unyielding–a look that made Charlotte’s heart pound fiercely in her chest. She swallowed hard, desperation bleeding into her voice. “Mr. Hill, Georgia hasn’t woken up yet. Where exactly do you plan to take her?”
A shiver passed through Charlotte as she thought, He seemed off the moment he walked in. I shouldn’t pry, but if I let this happen… if I turn away, Georgia will be left all alone again. And what if something worse happens this time? She’d be utterly lost.
“Mr. Hill, please… you can’t take her now,” Charlotte pressed, her voice cracking with anxiety. Sweat soaked through the fabric of her blouse, clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
Lorenzo’s eyes glinted briefly with a dangerous calm as he stepped forward. “Charlotte, move aside. Alpha Preston will overlook what happened this time.”
Charlotte knew Lorenzo’s words were meant to protect her, to save her from crossing a line she couldn’t afford to cross. But she clenched her fists, voice barely above a whisper, “Georgia’s body…”
Preston cut her off with a glare so icy it felt like frostbite. “Charlotte, I’ll say this once: move.”
His anger was palpable–smoldering just beneath the surface, threatening to erupt. Charlotte’s heart hammered wildly, a Georgia’s still form, the seconds stretching cold sweat breaking out across her forehead, endlessly, dragging with the weight of uncert
Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading!
Finally, she lowered her gaze and stepped aside in silent defeat, whispering in her mind, I’m sorry, Georgia.
Like everyone else, Charlotte feared Preston’s wrath. She knew his tolerance for disobedience was nonexistent, especially when it came to his mate.
With that, Preston carried Georgia out of the office, leaving Charlotte standing alone in the dim light, her shoulders heavy with silent worry
The journey to the pehthouse apartment atop the Vetro Club was shrouded in tense silence. Preston rarely visited this secluded refuge. Lorenzo trailed like a shadow, his presence quiet but unmistakably vigilant.
Once inside, Preston gently laid Georgia down on the expansive bed. Without a word, he took the hanger by the door, accepting the infusion bag from Lorenzo’s hands. “You can go,” he ordered with sharp finality.
Lorenzo hesitated, as if weighing words unsaid, but ultimately nodded. “Yes, Alpha Preston.”
Preston turned away from Georgia without sparing her a glance and crossed the room toward the floor–to–ceiling French window. He settled into the leather sofa beside it, folding his elbows on the armrests, his gaze fixed on the woman lying motionless on the bed.
Outside, a thunderstorm broke loose. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the room in stark, ghostly flashes, followed by the deep rumble of thunder that shook the walls. The wild symphony of the storm contrasted sharply with the oppressive silence of the bedroom.
The main lights were off, only a faint glow from the wall lamp beside the bed flickered, casting eerie shadows and illuminating the slow drip of fluid from the infusion bag.
Suddenly, Georgia’s breath hitched as a guttural groan escaped her lips–sharp, raw, full of pain. Preston remained still, unmoving on the sofa, his jaw tightening as if biting back some primal reaction,
Her cries grew more desperate, weaving agony into the cold air, until she curled inward, pulling her body into a tight,
Chapter 73
protective huddle.
[Menu]
An unbearable tension twisted inside Preston. His mind screamed with conflicting impulses–he wanted to rush to her side, to cradle her in his arms and soothe the torment etched across her face. Yet he held himself back, fighting the urge like a man wrestling his own shadow.
The longing to comfort her gnawed at him, raw and relentless. It unsettled him in ways he refused to admit, stirring a discomfort he hadn’t felt in years.
Suddenly, Preston rose, swift and sure. He crossed the room and stood over the bed, reaching out slowly, as if hesitating over the fragile line between control and surrender.
His hand hovered above her face before his fingers curled around her throat–not with violence, but with a possessive grip. a reminder of power and control.
His mind flashed back to a cold conversation from his youth, a brutal lesson etched into h his bones.
“I don’t allow myself any weaknesses,” he had told Simon, years ago, voice hard as iron. “If my mate ever messes with my mood or clouds my judgment, then I don’t want her. I’d kill her myself before I let her become my downfall.”
Raised as the future Alpha of the Dark
k Spike
Pack, Preston was forged in the crucible of relentless discipline and harsh expectations. His grandfather’s unyielding counsel had shaped him into a ruthless, calculating machine.
“You can’t afford weakness,” his grandfather had said gravely. “If there’s ever someone who can easily sway your decisions or shake your emotions, that person is your deadliest enemy. Preston, you must eliminate your enemies yourself.”
Simon had been shocked by those words back then, assuming they were empty threats or adolescent bravado. But Preston had meant every syllable.
Now, standing over Georgia, Preston’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, a silent testament to the fierce battle waging
Inside him.
Damn it, he thought, how can she always manage to unsettle me so completely? How does she make me lose control and twist my emotions like this?
He resented the way her pained cries tugged at his heart, the way her curled form ignited a need to protect that felt dangerously close to vulnerability.
Sitting back down on the sofa, Preston clenched his fists, battling his own desperation. He told himself he would not give
in–not this time.
It was all her fault.
Why did she have to cry out in agony, over and over again? Why did the sight of her suffering claw at his composure, threaten to unravel the carefully constructed walls around his heart?
