Chapter 26 Chapter 26
I never should have agreed to this.This was a mistake ,a trap. I should have known this was no better than a death sentence. These people wanted me dead ,cancel that they were not human and who knew how many of them were just monsters .My heart was not at peace everywhere I looked I questioned myself were these doctors and nurses even human.
I knew it the moment I felt the sting of the needle in my arm, the slow pull of my blood being drained from my body.
Emma was in critical condition—at least, that’s what they said. Alaric had barely spoken to me when he rushed into the hospital, his face grim, his entire body radiating tension. I had watched him pace, his hands clenched into fists, his voice low but urgent as he spoke with the doctor.
And then, I had heard it.
“I don’t care what it takes,” Alaric had said, his voice raw with emotion. “I won’t lose her. She’s always been there for me, and I will always protect her.”
The words hit me harder than I had expected. He loved her I could see it ,in the way he got so stressed out whenever he heard she was sick . The guilt in his eyes ,the weight of responsibility. He would never feel that way about me because like he said I was just an asset nothing more . I was just a blood bag to save her precious life. I wanted to feel sorry for her but I didn't trust Emma there was something off about her.
I already knew where I stood in his life—nowhere. A burden forced upon him by fate. But hearing him say it, hearing him vow to protect her, promise her something he’d never once said to me… It felt like a knife to the chest.
But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have the right to.
So, when they asked me for blood, I gave it.
I didn’t ask questions. I never did. Usually, they only took one bag every so often. This time, as I sat in that cold, sterile room, I noticed the nurse switching out the bag for another.
Two.
I frowned, my voice weak. “Why… why are you taking more?”
The nurse barely glanced at me as she adjusted the needle. “The patient is in critical condition,” she said dismissively. “She needs a lot of blood.”
A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I swallowed down the nausea creeping up my throat.
Of course, Emma needed more. Of course, it didn’t matter how weak I felt.
I hardly saw Alaric at all that night. He stayed by Emma’s side while I was left in that hospital room, my body drained and exhausted. The doctor suggested I remain in case I was needed again, and Alaric—without hesitation—agreed.
Not once did he check on me. Not once did he ask if I was okay.
I tried not to care.
But it was hard not to when every part of me felt like it was screaming for him, for the mate that refused to acknowledge me.
The next morning
I woke up with a pounding headache, my limbs heavy, my vision swimming. It took me a moment to register my surroundings—the same hospital room, the same clinical smell, the same distant beeping of machines.
Something felt off.
Blinking against the blur, I turned my head slightly, and my stomach dropped.
Another blood bag was attached to me.
They were still taking from me.
I tried to sit up, but my body protested, a wave of nausea rolling through me. My hands felt like lead, my breathing shallow.
“W-why…” My voice was barely a whisper, my throat raw.
The nurse came in, expression unreadable, as she checked my vitals. I wanted to ask her why they were still draining me, but the words wouldn’t come out.
I couldn’t fight this.
I couldn’t fight 'them'.
When they finally decided they had taken enough, I was sent back home.
I barely made it inside.
My legs trembled beneath me, my vision swimming again as I stepped through the front doors of the mansion. The staff barely glanced at me. No one reached out to help, no one asked if I was okay.
It was like they were ignoring me on purpose.
Or worse—they were 'warned' not to help.
I swallowed hard, forcing one foot in front of the other. I needed to get to my room. I needed to sleep.
As I passed through the hallways, laughter echoed from the sitting room.
Emma’s laughter.
My head snapped toward the sound, my blurry vision just barely making out her form lounging on the couch, phone pressed to her ear, completely at ease.
She was 'fine'.
Not just fine—'perfectly healthy'.
I stood frozen, watching her giggle and twirl her hair around her fingers, her voice light, her body relaxed.
Just yesterday, she was supposed to be dying.
Now she was here, laughing like she hadn’t just drained the life out of me.
My stomach twisted violently, but I had nothing left in me to react. No energy to be angry, no strength to question her.
I turned and forced myself up the stairs, every step feeling heavier than the last.
By the time I reached my room, my vision was blury
I dragged myself into my room, each step a battle against exhaustion. My body is weak, my vision blurred from relentless blood loss. As I collapse onto my bed, one thought pierces the darkness: Anna, my little sister, waiting for me. Desperate, I force myself off the bed, stumbling toward the door, determined to check on her. My trembling hand reaches for the doorknob as hope flutters in my chest—then, suddenly, my strength fails, and everything fades into darkness. In that final moment, I cling desperately to the thought of Anna, my only light in this suffocating void.
And then—darkness.