Chapter b208 /b

Dominic’s POV

“You’ve already hurt me!” she screamed, spittle flying from her lips. “Every day since you chose her!” She charged again, knocking over a readingmp that shattered on impact.

This time, her ws caught my arm, tearing through the fabric band /bdrawing blood. The scent of my blood seemed to drive her into a greater frenzy. She circled me, moving with predatory grace despite her mental instability.

She attacked again, forcing me to defend myself more aggressively. I caught her wrist as she shed at me, using her momentum to redirect her. In the struggle, Elizabeth’s head hit the marble floor with a sickening bcrack /bthat echoed through the room like a gunshot The sound was unmistakable–bone meeting bstone /bwith catastrophic force.

Blood began to pool beneath her blonde hair, spreading in an ever–widening circle on the white marble. The metallic scent filled the room, mixing with the dust from fallen books and the lingering scent of her perfume. Her body convulsed once, then went frighteningly still, her eyes open but unseeing, her partial transformation receding as consciousness fled.

The door burst open with such force that it splintered at the hinges. Ronald Collins stood frozen in the bdoorway/b, his face bpaling /bto a ghastly white at the sight before him. Behind him, two Delta guards bpeered /bin, their expressions shifting from alertness to shock.

“My God, what have you doneb? /bYou attacked a Collins daughter!” Ronald’s voice cracked with panic, his eyes fixed on the growing pool of blood.

I quickly shifted back to human form, ignoring the tears in my clothing as I knelt to check Elizabeth’s vital signs with professional efficiency. My fingers found her pulse at the neck–weak and thready. I gently lifted one eyelid, then the other. “Her pulse is weak, pupils dted and unresponsive. These bare /bsigns of brain injury.” I spoke clinically, falling back on medical training ball /bAlphas received.

Elizabeth’s breathing was shallow band /birregr, Books and broken ss surrounded her fallen form, while blood continued to seep from the wound at the back of her head, matting her blonde hair to ba /bdark crimson.

Ronald was panicking, hisposurepletely shattered. He clutched at a nearby chair for support, knees threatening to give way, “This will destroy you! Destroy the Sterling family!” His voice rose hysterically as one of the guards rushed to his side to steady him.

The other guard approached cautiously, eyes darting between Elizabeth’s prone form and my blood–spattered appearance. “Sir, should i call for medical assistance?” His hand hovered over his phone, awaiting borders/bb. /b

I pulled out my phone, my voice bcalm /bdespite the chaos. “Marcus, contact the best surgeon in L.A. Immediately. Tell him to prepare neurosurgery.” I turned to the guard. “Clear a path to the front entrance. We need to move her carefully.”

e other g

guard was already speaking into his radio, ordering the

bRonald /bcopsed into a chair, hands shaking as he covered his faceb. /bThe driveway cleared band /ba bmedical /bteam alerted

I carefully lifted Elizabeth into my arms, mindful of her head injury. Blood immediately soaked through my shirt and jacket, warm and sticky against my skin. I turned to bRonald/b, who looked up with red–rimmed eyes.

“She attacked a future Alpha. Any pack tribunal would side with me.” bMy /bvoice was level but firm. “Now, if you want to maintain your standing within the bpack/b, shut up and follow me.”

for

12:49 bSat/b, Sep b27 /b

20

The private entrance of LA. Medical Center was discreetly staffed with pack members who ensured our privacy. I carried Elizabeth’s limp body through the corridor, her blood staining my custom–tailored sult. The harsh fluorescent lights cast everything in a clinical glow, emphasizing the stark contrast between her pale skin and the crimson stalns on her clothing.

Emergency personnel rushed toward us with a gutney, their faces professionally nk despite the gravity of the situation. “Traumatie brain injury, possible brainstem damage,” I reported as I gentlyid her down. “Loss of consciousness following impact. No respiratory distress yet, but pulse is weak and Irregr.”

“I’m taking her to intensive care,” I informed the waiting medical team. “Her blood has soaked through my suit.” I looked down at the bdark /bstains spreading across my chest and arms, feeling the fabric beginning to stiffen as the blood dried.

The doctor, a middle–aged woman with steel–gray hair and the confident demeanor of an experienced trauma surgeon, immediately took charge. “Mr. Sterling, please wait next door. We need bto /boperate immediately.” Her team moved with practiced efficiency, attaching monitors and inserting IV lines as they wheeled Elizabeth away.

Through the swinging doors, I caught glimpses of organized chaos–nurses calling out vital signs, the doctor barking orders, someone cutting away Elizabeth’s bblood/b–soaked clothing. Then the doors closed, leaving an eerie silence in the corridor.

I watched as they whisked Elizabeth away, then turned to Ronald, who stood trembling in the hallway. His face was ashen, his busual /bbusiness confidencepletely shattered. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his tie hung loosely around his neck where he’d pulled at it in distress,

b“/bA true wolf maintainsposure during crisis,” bI /bsaid, my voice cold. “Your performance bis /bdisappointing, Collins.”

Ronald’s eyes darted to the blood on my clothes, then back to my face, his gaze unable to settle. “My daughter… she…” His words came out choked, iplete.

“Attacked me unprovoked after confessing to murder, I finished for him. “Your daughter killed Aria Thompson two years ago and was nning to target Reba next.” I ran a hand through my hair, grimacing as 1 felt dried blood king from my fingers.

The color drained further from Ronald’s face, making the lines around his mouth stand out in stark relief. “That’s impossible. Elizabeth wouldn’t- His denial sounded hollow even to his own ears; I could smell the doubt radiating from him.

“She did,” I cut him off. “And now we’ll bdeal /bwith the consequences ording to packw.” I looked pointedly at the blood on my bhands- /bher blood–before bwiping /bthem on a bclean /bsection of my ruined shirt. fnaedc ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? FιndＮovel/fnaedc

A nurse approached with a clipboard of forms, her demeanor calm but her scent betraying her awareness of who we were. “Mr. Collins, we need your signature for the surgery. We’re preparing the DR now, and Dr. Martinez is on her way”

A

As Ronald numbly signed the papers, his hand shaking so badly he could barely form his signature, I stepped baway /bto make a call. The bhallway /bsmelled of antiseptic and fear, undercut by the metallic tang of blood that clung to my clothing and skin

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