Chapter 157 The Weight of Hurt
His whole body trembled. His fingers slowly released their grip, and he stumbled backward out of the basement, one unsteady step at a time.
The moment he closed the heavy iron door, Alexander opened the cage himself.
Three massive hounds burst out, launching straight at Alexander, who stood perfectly still, making no move to dodge.
"Sir!" Liam's voice ripped through the air, his fingers locking onto the edge of the iron window, knuckles bone-white.
Alexander was slammed to the ground, his back crashing hard against the freezing concrete.
Then came the tearing pain.
One hound's fangs clamped down on his left wrist—the exact same spot where Caroline had been bitten repeatedly, where those vicious scars still marked her skin.
The canines sank deep into his flesh, nearly piercing through to bone. Hot blood gushed out instantly, running down his fingers and pooling on the floor.
A low groan escaped his throat. The veins in his forehead bulged. Cold sweat drenched his temples in seconds.
But through the agony, something else washed over him.
This was what it felt like—to have your wrist locked in those jaws. The pain was excruciating, like his bones were splintering, and the rapid blood loss brought a creeping cold.
What about her?
She was so small, so fragile. She could not handle pain. She cried so easily.
When this happened to her, how much had it hurt? How terrified had she been?
Had she lain helpless on the ground like this, watching the blood drain from her body, staring at those savage teeth, waiting for the next unpredictable attack?
Had she thought she was going to die?
Alexander started laughing, a low, trembling sound.
"So this... this is what it feels like..."
Liam's throat felt wrapped in barbed wire. He took deep breath after deep breath, his teeth grinding until they ached, his forehead pressed against the cold iron bars.
Finally, he could not hold it back anymore. Tears broke free.
"Open the door! Get in there!" Liam barked the order.
"Get Mr. Hamilton out now!"
Caroline had a nightmare—she was standing in pitch-black darkness, only a dim streetlight glowing at the mouth of a distant alley.
She stood alone in the depths, her heart racing.
Then she heard heavy breathing behind her.
She turned toward the sound and moved forward carefully.
The ground beneath her felt sticky, soaking through her slippers.
Then she saw him—
Alexander.
He was slumped against a damp, cold wall.
His expensive evening suit was torn in several places, dark liquid clinging to the fabric.
He pressed one hand tightly against his abdomen, but crimson blood kept pouring through his fingers, dripping onto the ground and forming a horrifying pool.
He lifted his head, seeming to see her. His lips moved with difficulty, but no sound came out.
But his unfocused eyes seemed to say, "Save me..."
"Alex!"
She screamed and bolted upright in bed.
The instant her eyes opened, her mind went blank.
Why was she awake?
Why was she drenched in cold sweat?
"Edith? Edith!"
A familiar voice called beside her, and a warm hand closed around her cold, trembling fingers.
Caroline whipped her head around to see Alexander sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong? Bad dream?" Alexander stood and gently brushed the damp hair from her face.
"I... I don't remember." Caroline tapped her head in confused panic.
"I think it was a nightmare, but I can't remember what I dreamed about."
Alexander's hand moved to her pale cheek.
"It's okay, Edith. Don't be scared. If you can't remember, then forget about it."
He forced a gentle smile and lightly tapped her nose.
"Silly girl, can't even remember your own dreams?"
This was the affectionate tone Edith had always loved, the one from his memories.
Sure enough, Caroline froze for a moment, then a shy blush spread across her face. She looked at him with mock reproach.
"You're the silly one..."
But before her smile could fully form, her nose twitched. Her brow furrowed.
She leaned closer to Alexander, sniffing him like a small animal.
"Alex, why do you... smell like blood? Are you hurt? Where are you hurt? Let me see!"
Alexander's heart sank.
He had scrubbed himself clean, changed into fresh clothes, rewrapped the wound on his wrist, and deliberately worn long-sleeved pajamas to hide it.
He had not expected her to be this perceptive.
"I'm fine. I probably just got a paper cut going through documents today. It's nothing, don't worry."
"No! Let me see!"
Caroline was unusually insistent.
She threw off the covers and jumped out of bed barefoot, heading straight for the bedside lamp.
"A paper cut wouldn't smell this strong! You're lying to me! Turn on the light so I can see!"
"Edith, really, it's nothing..."
Alexander reached out to stop her, but Caroline had already circled around him and flipped the wall switch. Light flooded the bedroom.
Warm illumination filled every corner.
Caroline spun around, her eyes searching his body urgently.
The black silk pajamas concealed most of the damage, but they could not hide the edge of white gauze peeking out from his left wrist, just below the sleeve.
And that white fabric was stained with an unmistakable crimson.
"Your hand!"
Caroline cried out and lunged forward, grabbing his left wrist.
"Don't..."
Alexander tried to pull away, but Caroline had already rolled up his sleeve. The bandage was completely exposed.
The gauze wrapped around his wrist was soaked through with blood, a spreading red stain.
"Oh my God... you've lost so much blood! And you said it was nothing!"
Tears welled instantly in Caroline's eyes. She looked up at him, furious and heartbroken.
"The first aid kit! Where is it? Alex, go get it! No, wait—don't move, I'll get it!"
She spoke rapidly, releasing his hand and spinning around to search the room.
Her ease in the bedroom startled Alexander.
Without hesitation, she went straight to the storage cabinet beside the walk-in closet and pulled out the household first aid kit.
He had prepared it ages ago and barely used it. He could not even remember exactly where he had put it.
Caroline rushed back with the kit, dropped to her knees on the carpet at his feet, and snapped it open.
She found the supplies with practiced efficiency and commanded, "Give me your hand."
Alexander stared down at her kneeling in the lamplight, her small face tilted up toward him. An indescribable ache and longing surged through his chest.
His throat tightened. Mechanically, he extended his injured wrist.
Caroline lowered her head and carefully unwound the blood-soaked bandage.
When she saw the wound beneath—deep enough to expose bone—her breathing hitched audibly. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
"How could... how could it be this bad..."