Chapter 260

Chapter 260
Richard

Isabella's fever took a full two days to completely subside. Those were some of the longest days of my life—watching her go through wave after wave of fever, nausea, and chills was a special kind of torture for all of us.

The first night was the worst. Her temperature rose dangerously high, prompting us to make another emergency call to Dr. Sarah. Michael paced the room like an animal trapped in a cage, while Kevin stood guard at the door, his expressionless mask unable to hide his concern. I sat beside her, continuously changing the cold washcloths on her forehead and neck, whispering reassurances even though I wasn't sure she could hear me.

By the second day, she was slightly better—the medication had started to work, bringing her fever down to a less concerning level. We took turns sitting with her, making sure she drank some water and broth when she was lucid. Even Kevin, who typically avoided any display of tenderness, sat by her side for hours, his massive hand gently stroking her hair when he thought no one was looking.

Now, on the third day, her temperature had finally returned to normal, but her spirits remained low. Dr. Sarah's diagnosis of psychogenic fever had resolved, but Isabella wasn't fully recovered. The physical symptoms had receded, but they'd left behind an empty shell of the vibrant woman who once was—no, I wouldn't use that word even in my thoughts, it was too early, too fragile.

I sat in Kevin's spacious office, discussing plans with his security team to ensure Isabella's safety outside the fortress. The fortress had undergone major security upgrades, but we couldn't keep her locked away forever. That wasn't a life, not one any of us wanted for her.

Kevin stood silently by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his massive frame silhouetted against the morning light, intently focused on surveillance footage on his tablet. For two straight days, we'd been hunting for the scum who'd been stalking Isabella, but the bastard was crafty, covering his scent and tracks with a professionalism that worried me.

"Anything new?" I asked, moving to stand beside him, my reflection in the glass showing the toll of the past few days—stubble darkening my jaw, shadows under my eyes.

Kevin shook his head, his jaw tight, and I could hear the grinding of his teeth. "We found more surveillance footage from around her apartment the night of the attack, but the bastard's face was covered." His entire body was rigid, radiating an anger that would make even the bravest man cautious. Kevin's anger wasn't explosive—it was the deadly, calculated kind that made him such a formidable Alpha.

He handed me the tablet, and I watched as a person in a hat loitered near Isabella's apartment building. The timestamp matched the night she was attacked. Kevin had seen someone matching this description that night but hadn't thought much of it—an oversight that was clearly eating at him.

"We found more videos," Kevin continued, sliding the screen to show me additional footage from different dates. "They correspond with the dates she received those strange gifts." In one particularly disturbing video, the figure actually waved at the camera, face still hidden beneath the hat, but the gesture undeniably taunting.

The arrogance made my blood boil. This wasn't just stalking—it was a game to him.

"He's taunting us," I growled, my fingers gripping the tablet so tightly that the case creaked in protest.

"We'll find him," Kevin said, the rare complete sentence emphasizing his determination.

After the security meeting, I went to check on Isabella. Michael had mentioned that she was refusing to leave bed today, which concerned me. Though her fever had broken, the heavy blanket of fear and anxiety still weighed on her, draining her spirit.

I found Michael in Kevin's office, his expression worried, fingers running through his hair—a nervous habit he'd had since college.

"She's refusing to leave the bed," he said, his professor voice tinged with helplessness.

Kevin, still focused on the surveillance screens, let out a low growl. "Then you should have dragged her out of it."

Michael looked shocked. "Man, you can't be that rough with her."

"She gave us permission to care for her as we see fit," Kevin countered, not looking up from the screen. "And lying in bed all day isn't doing her any good, especially for her mental health." He finally turned to face us, his eyes flashing with frustration. "If she keeps lying in bed, she'll just keep being tired. So get her the fuck up and give her something else to do other than that shit."

I understood Kevin's frustration. Both of us had escaped the responsibilities of leading a pack by oversleeping in our younger years. It never helped—just made things worse, making us more lethargic and depressed.

"I'll go," I said, standing up. Michael was sometimes too gentle with her. What Isabella needed now wasn't coddling but firm guidance. "Give me about an hour, then prepare some meat. Your barbecue might help stimulate her appetite."

Kevin nodded curtly, already reaching for his phone to arrange it.

As I headed for the door, I couldn't resist teasing Michael. "If she's as tired as you say, I'm sure she won't mind some help in the shower."

Michael's low growl followed me out of the room, a sound that combined jealousy and acceptance. We'd developed an unspoken understanding about sharing Isabella's attention, though it wasn't easy for any of us.

When I entered Isabella's room, the curtains were drawn tight, and the air felt stuffy and heavy. She lay on her back, asleep, with the covers pulled up to her chin. In sleep, her face looked peaceful, but I could see the toll the past weeks had taken. Her black hair had lost its shine, her normally creamy skin looked pale with veins visible at her neck, and her lips had lost their color.

Even so, she was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

I walked to the window, pulling back the curtains to let sunlight flood the room, then opened the window to let in fresh air. Isabella groaned, covering her face with a pillow.

"Time to get up, dear," I said firmly.

"I already told Michael I didn't want to get up today," her voice came muffled from beneath the pillow, raspy from sleep.

I walked over and gently removed the pillow. "You need to get up, and then we're going to take a shower, and after that, you need to eat something."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, you're going to shower with me?" A blush crept up her cheeks, making her look more alive than she had in days. She bit her lip, hesitating. "What are we... I mean, what are we? And what about the other two, will they... will they be angry or...?"

I sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand, noting how small and delicate it felt in mine. "We don't need to define anything right now, no rush." I brought her fingers to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "Michael and Kevin, they'll be a bit jealous, but they'll get over it. Because they just want you happy in whatever way makes you happy."

She nodded slowly, her eyes tracking the movement of my lips against her skin. "Oh, I... if you're sure it's okay, then I'd like you to join me."

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, inhaling her scent—still medicinal from the fever, but with that uniquely sweet undertone. "If you're a good girl, I'll even give you a scalp massage while I wash your hair," I murmured.

That drew out a tired but genuine smile. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"