Chapter 151

Chapter 151

Ethan's POV

The ICU surveillance light bathed everything in an icy blue. The ventilator hummed rhythmically, like a tireless machine counting down time.

Serena lay in bed, her oxygen mask fogging with each faint breath before clearing, then fogging again. Around the needle mark on the back of her hand—where the toxin had been injected—dark purple bruises still lingered. I dampened a cotton swab with warm water and gently moistened her cracked lips.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, hurried and chaotic.

I didn't look up. "Get out."

"Serena!"

I caught the wrist lunging toward the bed and twisted it. A faint crack of bone echoed under the pressure.

Marcus.

He collapsed to his knees, forehead pressed against the cold metal bed rail, his sobs fractured like a man finally breaking apart. "I'm sorry! I regret it! I don't even know how it came to this! I loved Serena the most! It's all Jade's fault."

"How convenient—shifting the blame now." I released him and rolled up Serena's sleeve.

On her slender arm, beyond the fresh puncture wound and the pressure marks from the IV tubing, lay several old scars—faded, healed, pale white imprints embedded in her skin like badges of shame.

My fingertips hovered above them without touching.

"This one—she cut it when you accused her of killing her own mother. This one—when Vivian framed her for theft and you slapped her in front of everyone."

I paused over the radial artery, my voice freezing into ice.

"And this one is the prettiest. Do you remember how you and Jade worked together to deliver your own daughter into a stranger's bed?"

Marcus let out a raw, shapeless howl, his body convulsing as if something were tearing him apart from the inside.

"No! I didn't know anything then!" He clawed at Serena's hand like a man possessed.

The heart monitor shrieked an alarm.

On the bed, Serena suddenly convulsed in her unconscious state, a pained whimper escaping her lips.

"Doctor!" The moment I hit the emergency call button, I caught Marcus prying open Serena's eyelids with both hands.

I turned to look at him.

Serena's eyes—her amber pupils dilated and unfocused, that glassy, death-like emptiness made my stomach plummet, as if something inside me had shattered.

Marcus stared into her eyes and completely broke down, screaming "Grace," screaming "Serena," then began slamming his fists into his own temple—once, twice—the sound low and dull.

"I deserve to die! I deserve hell!"

Blood poured from his nose and ears, staining the pristine hospital floor beside the bed.

Security guards rushed in and forcibly dragged him out. As he struggled, he pressed something into my palm.

A sapphire pendant. Sharp-edged, cold, still smeared with blood from his hand—that dark crimson clashing against the deep blue of the gem like a silent accusation.

"Please, when Serena wakes up, tell her—I got her mother's heirloom back."

I clenched the pendant tightly and said nothing.

Inside the room, the piercing alarm and the footsteps of medical staff rushing in overlapped. The smell of disinfectant thickened in the air.

"All non-essential personnel out! Now!" Dr. Bryan Ward barked, already pulling on sterile gloves.

I stepped back against the wall, clutching that blood-smeared sapphire in my palm.

As security hauled Marcus out, he was still screaming, the gash on his forehead bleeding down to his jaw, drops falling onto the spotless corridor floor like an endless act of self-punishment.

On the monitor screen, the heart rate line spiked wildly.

"IV push sedative! Prep EEG monitoring!"

The moment the needle pierced her bruised vein, she arched violently, her wrists tearing bloody marks against the restraints.

I stood outside the glass window, eyes locked inside, gripping the pendant so hard veins bulged on the back of my hand.

I was thinking—if even a fraction of a milliliter more of that toxin had been injected, what state would she be in right now?

I couldn't finish the thought.

---

Three hours later, the room returned to deathly silence.

Bryan pulled off his mask and stepped out, pointing at the chaotic spike waves on the EEG screen. "Mr. Blackwood, you must ensure absolute quiet. The neurotoxin has completely destroyed her pain inhibition system. Any minor stimulus—even a familiar voice—could trigger self-harming spasms."

I nodded, my gaze drifting past him to the corridor.

Marcus was curled against the wall, still twitching, clawing at the surface with his nails, muttering incoherently, his expression vacant.

This wasn't normal emotional collapse.

That dazed, confused look in his eyes—I'd seen it before.

"Lucas," I said quietly, my voice low. "Take Marcus for a full medical exam."

I paused.

"I want to know if he's really been manipulated all these years—or if this is an act."

"Yes, sir."

Only Serena and I remained in the room.

I sat back down beside the bed and gently pressed the sapphire pendant into her palm, feeling the stone slowly warm from cold to tepid. I used a cotton swab to moisten her dry lips again, then softly massaged the crease between her brows with my fingertip. Placing the pendant over her heart, I whispered, "When the stone warms through, you'll wake up."

Something tugged at my sleeve.

I looked down—her hand. Unconsciously, she'd grabbed the cuff of my shirt.

I immediately leaned in, pressing my forehead against her icy brow, my voice rough as gravel. "I'm here."

The next second, her hand lunged toward the IV catheter at her jugular.

"No!"

I reached for her hand, but before I could secure it, her eyes suddenly flew open.

I froze for a full second.

Those weren't her eyes.

Not the clear, luminous amber gaze I knew. Instead, they were cloudy, bloodshot, reflecting the cold blue glow of the monitoring lights—like glass marbles filled with the wild, desperate madness of a dying animal.

"Serena?"

My voice was rougher than I expected.

A broken rasp rolled from her throat. Her body arched violently, and her left hand clawed toward her own eyes.

"Don't touch!"

I seized her wrist.

The instant our skin made contact, it was like flipping a switch. Her unfocused pupils flared with savage light. The wrist I held twisted violently, her nails gouging into the flesh between my thumb and forefinger—the tearing sensation sharp and blunt all at once.

"Let go of me!"

She shrieked, grabbing the pillow with her free hand and smashing it into my face. Feathers exploded in a burst of sound, falling like snow onto my already bleeding wounds.

Then she bit down on my neck.

I didn't move. My arms locked around her thrashing legs like iron bands, my voice dropping low. "It's me! Serena, open your eyes and look—it's me!"

She couldn't hear me at all.

I could feel her entire being trapped in some chaotic mental swamp, her body fighting desperately against something that existed only in her mind—not me.

"I'll kill you!"

She suddenly screamed, sinking her teeth into my forearm as I reached to restrain her. Her canines embedded deep into the flesh, blood surging out—warm, metallic liquid streaming down my arm.

I grunted, my left hand still pinning her shoulder firmly. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, but my eyes stayed locked on her convulsing face—I was searching.

Searching through this chaos for even a fragment of consciousness that still belonged to her.

The door burst open. Two male nurses rushed in, Lucas right behind them, his face white as paper, reaching out to pull me away. "Mr. Blackwood! You can't keep doing this!"

"Everyone out!"

I barked, my bleeding arm not moving an inch.

I leaned down, bringing my face close to her still-screaming mouth, almost nose to nose. Warm blood trickled down the corner of her lips. My voice was low, but every word was solid. "Had enough? If not, bite harder. For every bit of pain you feel, I'll feel it with you."

Her jaw trembled violently.

She released.

She stared blankly at the blood on my arm, dripping onto the sheets, then slowly lifted her head to see the torn wound on my neck—something flickered in those clouded eyes.

Like clarity. Or like something breaking.

"Blood… so much blood…"

Her voice was barely a whisper, carrying the bewildered panic of a lost child.

Then, in an even more violent convulsion, she passed out, her body going limp against my arm.

I rested my forehead gently against her temple, closed my eyes, steadied my breathing, my voice so low it nearly dissolved into the air. "You can bite me. You can hit me. You can vent anything you want on me."

"But you are not allowed to hurt yourself."