50. Victor
Victor
My gut is roiling. If Jack poisoned my food, he won’t have to worry about the alpha ghost. I’ll come back to personally haunt his ass.
I woke up this morning tired and annoyed.
This whole thing with Clara and the scent sensitivity has me not sleeping.
I saw Dagan slip up to her room after their courting date last night and I can’t fucking deal with it.
So I’ve been smoking in the house. Bram threatened me with bodily harm, but he and the other guys are out getting stuff for Clara’s breakfast since she doesn’t work today.
She’s sleeping in. I’m working on my computer.
What they don’t know won’t kill them. I’ll just open some windows before she wakes up and they get home.
Another sharp pull twists around my middle, like a metal cable connecting my center to something in the house.
It yanks again and fuck, it hurts. The scent of bread drifts around me, and I know it’s Finian wanting me to do something.
I’m not his Goddamn errand boy, but I also don’t want my guts spilling out.
Fine.
I get up and follow the oddly distinct direction it’s pulling me. I climb the stairs slowly, in case I’m supposed to turn somewhere. Nope. It leads me straight to the staircase for the omega suite.
Nope .
I t urn to head back down, but the pull tightens until I swear my insides might become my outsides. I turn back and knock on the omega suite door. Nothing.
“Spooky Girl? You in there?”
A strange sound comes from inside. Low. Rough. Guttural. The kind of noise I’ve only ever heard once, from a dying cat. My alpha surges forward. I don’t even remember opening the door. One second I’m behind it, the next I’m inside.
I drop to my knees beside Clara’s prone form.
“What happened?” My voice is sharp, panicked. Her skin is ashy, lips tinged blue. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, gasping pulls, but she’s not getting a full breath. Something’s clutched in her hand. I pry her fingers open.
An inhaler.
Asthma.
“Spook, do you need this? How—” I fumble with the device, but she shakes her head.
“Not… working…” she wheezes. Her eyes flutter shut too long, and my heart lurches to a stop. Then I’m moving.
Blood roars in my ears as I scoop her up and bolt for the stairs. No one else is here. I don’t stop until we’re outside, shoving her into my car. The hospital’s just outside of town, but it’s still ten minutes away. I floor it, calling 911 as I tear down the road.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My omega is having an asthma attack,” I shout into the speakers.
“Has she used her rescue inhaler?”
“Yes, but she says it’s not working.” Clara’s eyes are heavy, like she’s fading. “Clara!” I shake her gently, and her eyes snap open.
“Sir, continue to administer the inhaler. Do you need a n ambulance?”
I grab the inhaler, pressing it to her mouth one-handed while still driving. She wraps her fingers around mine. Our eyes meet and she nods. I press down, and she inhales.
We round the curve. The hospital comes into view.