“Or my threshold is just better than other people’s.” Lucien ran his fingers over the red patches on his chest from where the defib paddles had shocked him. “I actually feel ratherrefreshed.”
Harry returned the paddles to the case before reaching for a stethoscope. “Stop freaking me out and let me monitor your vitals.”
Lucien shoved himself off the desk instead. “No need.”
He wasn’t clumsy or confused—his bare feet hit the decorated carpet with a dull thud, planting down like tree roots.
Both doctors froze.
“That’s...you shouldn’t—” Harry started, then stopped as Whisper stepped closer, fangs gleaming wetly in the lamplight. “You know what?” Tossing everything into his medical bag, he shook his head. “I’m done. We’ve gone above and beyond what was expected. I’m leaving.”
“Wait.” Looking down the expanse of his bandage-wrapped chest, Lucien tapped the metal disc. He waited an age for the lights to flash but they didn’t. A dark chuckle escaped him. “Did it work? It’s not flashing. Does that mean it’s dead?”
Roger finished packing his bag. “I have no idea. But...if there are none of the usual signs of it working then yes...it’s dead.”
Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. His shoulders sagged as a full-body shudder worked through him.
I’d seen this man full of murderous rage, burning temper, livid distrust, and on guard every second of every day, but...I’d never seen him like this before.
Never seen him sorelieved.
His fingers pressed against those dead little lights, daring them to turn on. When they didn’t, another wave of devastating gratitude washed over his face.
I drifted forward; my gaze locked on the metal embedded in his chest.
No green or red.
Nothing flashing, nothing monitoring...
His chin shot up as he glowered at the doctors. For a second, it looked like he’d give Whisper an order to kill but then he bowed his head and said sincerely, “Thank you. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”
“The only reward I want is safety for me and my family.” Roger hoisted up his bag.
“Same.” Harry slung his satchel over his body. “Forget we even exist.”
“You have my word that Marcus won’t harm you.” Lucien balled his hands. With black trousers clinging to his trim waist and white bandages covering his chest and wrists...he looked as if he’d finally stepped out of the crypt he’d been living in for so long. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“In that case...” Roger arched a chin at the door, the crow’s feet by his eyes more pronounced than before. “We’ll just get going.”
Lucien held his stare, once again seeming to hover on that line of trusting these men or ending them before they could betray him. But then his shoulders drew back and his lips quirked at the corners. “Go on then. Get out.”
Both men sucked in a breath as if they hadn’t quite believed they’d be leaving this room alive. The sounds of last-minutelatches and zippers being done up on their bags braided with the thunderous rumble coming from Whisper. He seemed more on the ‘kill the witnesses instead of letting them go’ team.
Clicking his fingers, Lucien summoned the panther to his side.
I went to join him as if he’d summoned me instead. The instant I was close enough to touch him, Lucien’s heat buffeted me. Delicious, comforting warmth soaked into my bones as if he was already holding me. I couldn’t explain the way he made me feel—how just being near him made me feel so...safe.
His eyes met mine, and I desperately wanted to be alone with him.
His gaze searched mine, dark and unguarded. The air thickened as something tightened in my chest, pulling so fiercely it hurt.
He opened his mouth to say something—
“Where do you think you’re going?” a man barked. “Is he still alive?”
We froze as our attention flew to the open door where two burly guards leered in. Harry and Roger braced themselves in their blood-splattered smocks. Roger still had his hand outstretched as if he’d been the one to open the door. “Yes, he’s still alive. Which means our job is done and we’re leaving.”
The two guards looked at one another as if this went against protocol. Both were fair-skinned and obvious regular gym-goers, their biceps bulging in black t-shirts hugging muscular torsos.
