Chapter 307 I Begged You
The drive home was a frantic, disjointed blur. Elias gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles ached, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds. Every pair of headlights that swept across his windshield felt like a silver-eyed executioner tailing him through the dark. By the time he veered into his driveway, his hands were so slick with cold sweat they kept sliding off the leather.
He didn't use the garage; the mechanical groan of the door felt like an alarm bell he wasn't ready to ring. Instead, he stood on the porch for a long, shuddering minute, dragging in lungfuls of the biting night air. He tried to let the breeze strip away the cloying scent of hospital antiseptic and the stale, artificial sweetness of his vape pen, but the metallic tang of fear was stuck in the back of his throat.
When he finally stepped inside, the silence of the house was oppressive. The only sound was the low, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator and the soft, warm glow of a single lamp in the living room.
"You're late," Sloane said.
She was curled on the sofa, a book resting in her lap, but her eyes were fixed on the door. She hadn't read a single word. As he stepped into the light, her gaze sharpened, landing instantly on his neck. Her breath hitched.
"My God, Elias. Your throat."
Chatmory didn't try to hide it. He couldn't. The strength finally bled out of his legs, and he slumped into the armchair opposite her, looking every bit the broken man he was.
"You were right, Sloane," he rasped, his voice sounding like it was being dragged over gravel. "About all of it. I should have walked away the second the first wolf walked into my ER three years ago."
"What happened?" she whispered, the book sliding unheeded to the floor. She moved to him, her fingers hovering inches from the purple, finger-shaped bruises, her face a mask of dawning horror. "Was it Jax? Did he finally snap?"
"No," Elias choked out, a bitter laugh bubbling in his chest. "Jax is a saint compared to the men who did this. Sloane, listen to me—don't interrupt. I need to tell you everything. If something happens to me, this truth cannot die in that office."
He took a jagged breath and let the floodgates open. He told her about the two men in the impeccably tailored suits—the High Council. He described their terrifying, predatory stillness and the way they looked at him as if he were a particularly dull specimen under a microscope.
"They wanted her, Sloane. The woman Jax brought in tonight... Ginny." He leaned forward, his eyes bloodshot and wide with a manic edge. "But they didn't call her his mate. They were looking for someone else. They kept asking about an 'Elemental.' From what I gathered, they were talking about Leela—the Alpha King’s mate. They called her an Elemental Lycan."
Sloane’s face went bone-white. "An Elemental? Elias, that’s folklore. That’s the stuff of the Old World stories you used to laugh at."
"It’s real," he insisted, his voice dropping to a frantic, wet whisper. "And she’s not just a Luna anymore. With Fennigan as the Alpha King, she’s a Luna Queen. The Council is terrified of her power—or they’re obsessed with stealing it. But that isn't even the worst part."
He reached out, gripping Sloane’s hands. His knuckles were white, his palms clammy.
"I lied to them, Sloane. Not to the Council—I was too busy trying not to die to hold anything back from them. I lied to Jax. I looked him in the eye and told him his mate was fine. I told him she was just recovering from heavy metal poisoning." He let out a dry, hacking sob. "But I looked at the deep sequencing after they left. It's not poison. It’s synthetic. They are rewriting Ginny’s DNA, Sloane. They’re using her as a living petri dish to see if they can force a human to turn into a Lycan using laboratory strains. It’s a mutation. And it’s going to kill her, or turn her into something that has no right to exist."
Sloane sat back, her breath hitching in the heavy silence of the room. It felt as if the very walls were leaning in, eavesdropping on a secret that carried the weight of a death sentence.
"And the baby," Elias added, his voice trembling. "He's a preemie, but he's already nine pounds. Nine pounds, Sloane! That’s why Ginny is fading—the baby is draining her dry, fueled by whatever they’ve put in her. If the Council finds out I know the truth about the DNA, they'll kill me to bury the evidence. And if Jax finds out I let his mate walk out with a death sentence in her veins... he’ll tear me apart for the betrayal."
He looked at his wife—the woman who had warned him, the woman who was now an accomplice to a conspiracy that could topple a kingdom. "I don't know what to do. I’m a dead man either way."
Sloane didn't move. She didn't reach out to soothe his trembling hands or offer a hollow comfort. Instead, she sat perfectly still, her face settling into a mask of cold, vibrating fury. This was the moment she had predicted—the moment the shadows he’d played with finally reached out to swallow their lives.
"I don't care about their titles, Elias," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying, steady clip. "I don't care about 'Alpha Kings' or 'Luna Queens' or whatever fairy-tale names these monsters use to pretend they aren't animals. To me, they are just the things that put those marks on your neck."
She stood up, pacing the length of the rug, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as if she were holding her own soul together.
"I told you," she hissed, spinning back to face him. "I begged you. I said, 'Elias, don't take their money. Don't be their little back-alley doctor.' But you were so arrogant. You thought you were 'above' the danger because you had a degree and a white coat. You thought they’d respect your 'ethics' while they’re out there shredding each other in the woods!"
"Sloane, please—"