Chapter 215 CRITICAL CONDITION
Edeline
I managed to figure things out and dialed Mirabelle’s number, which I had memorized. I nervously bit my lip as the phone rang, hoping she would answer and ease my anxious curiosity.
“Hey there, what’s up?” Her voice came through, sounding slightly confused.
I let out a sigh of relief upon hearing her greet me. “Hey Mirabelle, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey Edeline! I’ve been really worried about you! Are you doing alright?”
“Well, not really. I felt something strange last night. Conor mentioned something about the bond dying. Is Percival…?”
Mirabelle’s tone shifted. “Edeline, there’s something important I need to tell you. It’s about Percival. Last night, he made a desperate attempt to harm himself. He cut his wrist, but fortunately, I found him in time. He’s still alive, though his condition is critical.”
My heart raced with worry. Tears began to well up in my eyes again.
“He tried to take his own life?” I asked, my voice trembling. A knot formed in my stomach, the familiar nausea creeping back with my rising anxiety.
I couldn’t believe it—Percival, of all people.
“Edeline, there are things you don’t know. Do you have a minute? Because I need to tell you everything,” Mirabelle said, her tone serious and leaving me uneasy. I wondered if Percival had felt so lost and alone that he attempted to end his life. Was that all, or was there more to it?
“Sure, go ahead. I’m listening.”
...
I sank down onto Conor’s bed, my eyes swollen and puffy from crying. The weight of Mirabelle’s revelations hit me hard.
How could I have missed that? How could I not have known?
The ache in my soul grew more intense the more I thought about it. I stared blankly at the door, feeling completely numb. I could hardly believe all the details. I was stuck, unable to move, overwhelmed by the thought of what more I could possibly endure. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more surprises, I found myself wondering how many more shocks I could take. My soul felt like it was on the verge of breaking from the weight of the pain.
I was feeling empty, like a ghost of my former self. There was a weakness in me, a drain from the world around me that I could not escape. It was as if the very air was sapping my energy. From what I understood, not knowing some things could actually be enjoyable.
The sudden swing of the door broke my daze. Conor strolled in, his movements casual and relaxed. He scanned me with a lingering look, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His face, always serious, had an unusual charm to it. "Are you alright?"
That question was like the crack in a dam. I felt my resolve crumble, and tears began to stream down my face. My body shook with sobs, each cry coming from deep within. My stomach felt like it was vibrating with the intensity of my grief. "No, I’m definitely not okay!" I cried out, burying my face in my hands as if they could shield me from the pain.
Confusion and sorrow overwhelmed me. Everything I had thought I knew was crumbling. What I had believed to be true in my life was nothing more than a façade.
Conor did not hesitate. He placed a comforting hand on my back, his touch warm and reassuring. After a few moments, he guided me to lean against his chest, his presence a solid anchor amidst my storm of emotions. He appeared somewhat uneasy but offered no resistance. Understanding my need for privacy, he ensured the pack house was cleared out so I would not have to face anyone else while I was so vulnerable. I could sense that everyone had heard me. His pack was different from ours, more like wolves than humans—less prone to unnecessary drama.
He led me outside to a garden at the side of the house. The sun shone brightly above us, its light filtering through the drooping branches of the weeping willows that surrounded the area.
I felt like a crying willow myself, mirroring the somber mood of the garden.
The garden was secluded, almost hidden. If you were unfamiliar with the maze of towering flowering shrubs and trees, you might never find it. Conor and I settled into a pair of elegant metal chairs positioned in front of a glass table. We remained in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle trickle of a small waterfall cascading into a koi pond nearby. The beauty of the scene was lost on me as my thoughts churned like relentless waves crashing against the shore.
Conor broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the tranquility. "So, what’s the story, Edeline?" He looked somewhat out of place at the table, his imposing figure making it seem strangely small. Yet, his gaze was intense, filled with concern and care.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I met his eyes, noting their own signs of distress. "Percival tried to harm himself last night. He cut his wrist." My bottom lip quivered as I spoke, each word weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
Conor’s expression darkened further. He raised a hand, absently stroking his goatee as he processed the information. His eyes revealed a depth of concern that made my heart ache.
"He's still alive... but in critical condition." I felt a tightening in my stomach, my wolf inside me letting out a soft whimper. I wondered if we could spend time with our friend to offer some comfort. "And there’s more. Darius... Percival’s actions weren’t about jealousy or revenge. It was pure fear... for me." I shifted my gaze to my hands, nervously twirling the emerald ring on my finger. I avoided Conor’s penetrating eyes, seeking refuge in the simple action.
"Darius was sick... you were right. He... he was fixated on me, and I never realized it. He..." A tear slipped down my cheek as I shut my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions.