Sylas
“Where is he?” I snarled, storming to a stop in front of the plexiglass window labelledInformation.
Startled, the middle-aged woman jerked her head up from the paperwork in front of her, her pale blue eyes widening when she saw me. “I..who?”
“My husband,” I snapped. “Paul. Where the fuck..”
“Stop it!” Chuck hissed a warning as he caught up to me and shouldered me aside. “Excuse my friend,” he said politely, smiling at the woman. “He’s overwrought. He’s looking for the gunshot victim who was brought in a short time ago, Paul Rogers.”
“Oh, of course,” she murmured, relaxing slightly even as she shot a look at me from the corner of her eye. Tapping on the keyboard in front of her, she nodded to the locked door beside her. “He’s in the exam room now. If you could show me some identification, I can let you back.”
“Certainly.” Chuck pulled his driver’s license from his wallet and passed it over before raising his brow to me.
“Don’t have it,” I grunted through clenched teeth. “Forgot my wallet.”
Chuck sighed. “Where’s your phone?”
Oh. Right. I kept a picture of it on there precisely for situations like this. Pulling up the photos file, I swiped through them until I reached the one I needed.
“Can you accept that?” Chuck asked calmly, pulling a folded paper from his wallet and passing it over. “I have a copy of their marriage certificate and I’m sure that Paul can confirm his identity.”
Before she could respond, a familiar voice came from the corridor behind her.
“Sylas?” Paul’s voice was uncomfortably high. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, baby.” I assured him, craning my neck to see past the ceiling-high shelves blocking my view. “I’m trying to get to you, baby.”
Something metal clattered to the floor.
“Letgoof me!” Paul snapped. “I want my husband!”
“Paul, calm down,” another voice said firmly. “You’re going to injure yourself worse.”
“Let mego!”Paul insisted. “Let him in or I’m refusing treatment!”
My anger rose as I heard my Omega fighting to be reunited with me and Chuck promptly intervened again.
“Ma’am,” Chuck spoke firmly. “You can hear for yourself that the patient has identified his husband.”
Squaring her jaw, the woman pressed a button beside her on the table. The door buzzed before slowly gliding open.
I strode through, coming to a sudden stop when I saw Paul being carefully pinned to the wall by a large, muscular man whose scent screamedwolf.
“Calm down,” he was murmuring. “You’ll aggravate the wound. They’ll let him in.”
“I’m here,” I said gruffly, smiling gently when Paul’s eyes snapped to me.
The wolf eased the pressure off Paul’s chest, holding him steady until he was sure that Paul had his balance before releasing him completely.
“Thank God,” Paul choked out, rushing into my waiting arms and clinging to me. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
“I’m fine, love,” I assured him, burying my nose in his neck for a long moment and breathing in his unique fragrance. “Did you get fixed up?”
“I..”
An annoyed looking orderly interrupted. “We were on our way to the operating room to have the bullet removed when he saw you.”
I brushed my finger over the pink-stained gauze. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s get you taken care of and then I’ll take you home.”
