Chapter 8
Nora's POV
I answered, pressing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Nora!" Kyle's voice was frantic and rushed. "Why did you block me? I've been trying to reach you all morning."
"Kyle, we shouldn't keep in touch anymore." I kept my voice low.
"Just because I made one mistake, you're going to break up with me? I really didn't mean to hide it from you!" His tone was anxious.
"I can't talk right now. I'm hanging up."
"What's inconvenient? I contacted the Blackwood office," Kyle continued, his tone shifting toward something accusatory. "They said you're on assignment in Silverton. Is that even true, or are you just avoiding me?"
My jaw tightened.
"I've already confronted my mother. I told her I'm going to marry you no matter what she says. I'm coming to Silverton to find you. We can—"
"Kyle, stop." My voice came out harder than intended. "Stop being so childish."
"Childish? Is it wrong that I love you?" he growled.
My patience exhausted, I ended the call and powered off the phone entirely.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs, willing them to stop, and when I finally looked up, I caught Julian's reflection in the rearview mirror. He was staring straight ahead now, eyes on the road, but the line of his jaw suggested he'd heard every word.
Great. Just great.
Benjamin shifted beside me, cracking one eye open. "That sounded intense," he whispered.
"It's nothing." I forced myself to take a slow breath, then another. "Just... tying up loose ends."
I turned my attention back to the window, watching the snow fall harder now, blurring the landscape into soft white shapes.
I felt hollowed out. Exhausted in a way that went beyond physical pain.
---
The Lincoln finally stopped at the hospital emergency entrance.
Ethan put the car in park and started to climb out. Julian opened the rear door, bending slightly to meet my eyes. "Come on," he said. "Let's go inside."
I fumbled with my seatbelt, but the buckle stuck. Julian reached past me—close, too close—and released it with a quick flick.
"Thank you," I managed. "You don't have to—"
"I know." His gaze pinned me in place. "But I'm going to anyway. Now, listen to me."
Not a request. A command.
My pulse kicked up, and I hated how my body responded to that voice—the way my muscles relaxed, the way I wanted to nod and agree even though this was only our second meeting. Alpha voice. Don't fall for it, Nora.
But I nodded anyway.
Julian stepped back, extending his hand. I hesitated for half a second, then placed my palm in his. His fingers closed around mine—warm, steady—and he helped me out of the car.
I made it two steps before my knees buckled.
Julian caught me before I hit the ground, his arm locking around my waist. "Easy," he murmured, and then he was lifting me—one arm beneath my knees, the other supporting my back—cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing.
"I can walk," I protested weakly.
"You've lost too much blood." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it. Concern, maybe. Or anger at whoever had caused the crash. "You're not going anywhere."
I opened my mouth to argue, but when I met his eyes, the words died. Focused on me, making it hard to breathe.
He carried me through the automatic doors, Benjamin and Ethan trailing behind. The warmth of the hospital lobby washed over me, and I caught the faint scent of antiseptic and coffee. The nurse at the intake desk looked up, saw the credentials Ethan presented, and immediately sprang into action.
The emergency room nurse settled me into a wheelchair before I could protest. Julian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the intake process with the kind of quiet authority that made everyone move faster. Benjamin had been whisked off for a CT scan the moment we arrived.
"Ms. Grey," Julian said, pulling my attention back to him. "Before I leave, I'll need your contact information."
I blinked. "My... what?"
"Your phone number." His expression remained perfectly neutral. "To follow up on your condition."
He has absolutely no obligation to see this through.
But as I looked at his no-nonsense expression, I found myself giving him my number, watching as he typed it into his phone with quick, precise movements.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he turned to Ethan, who'd appeared at his side like a well-trained shadow. "Make sure they get everything they need. VIP protocols."
Ethan's expression didn't change, but I caught the slight lift of his eyebrows. "Of course, sir."
Julian's gaze swept over me one last time, lingering on the makeshift bandage around my arm. Something flickered in those silver-gray eyes. Then he nodded once and strode toward the exit, his long coat swirling behind him.
I watched him go, feeling oddly bereft.
"Ms. Grey?" The nurse's voice pulled me back. "We're ready for you now."
---
The next hour passed in a blur of sterile hallways, fluorescent lights, and medical efficiency that felt almost aggressive in its speed. A radiologist took X-rays of my arm. A doctor examined the gash with gentle fingers and assured me it looked worse than it was. Ten stitches later, my arm was wrapped in clean gauze.
Through it all, Ethan remained a quiet, competent presence in the background. He spoke to nurses in low tones, signed paperwork I didn't understand, and somehow ensured that I never waited more than five minutes for anything.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered as a nurse wheeled me toward a private room. "I don't need all this."
Ethan fell into step beside the wheelchair. "Mr. Sterling's orders."
"He isn't here."
"No," Ethan agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant. "But I am."
The private room turned out to be more like a small suite—cream-colored walls, a window overlooking the parking lot, and a bed with actual blankets instead of the thin hospital-issue sheets I'd expected.
After the nurse left, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling unreal about everything happening now.
"Ms. Grey." Ethan's voice interrupted my thoughts. He walked in. "The hit-and-run driver has been apprehended. Blood alcohol level of 0.15. He'll be charged with DUI, reckless endangerment, and fleeing the scene."
I stared at him. "Already?"
"A few calls were made." Ethan's expression remained neutral, but I caught the faint hint of satisfaction in his tone. "State police had a unit waiting at the county line. He's in custody now."
Someone powerful enough to mobilize so many resources instantly. The realization sat heavy in my stomach. What had I gotten myself into?
"Thank you," I said, keeping my voice calm.
Ethan inclined his head. "Mr. Sterling also arranged for your medical expenses to be covered by federal insurance. You won't receive a bill."
"That's not necessary—"
"It's already done." Ethan pulled a business card from his pocket and set it on the bedside table. "If you need anything, call me directly."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts.