Chapter 3

Isabella POV:

Ten minutes after leaving the cathedral, the black bulletproof Maybach Liam drove screeched to a halt in front of the Pack Medical Center, the tires smoking against the asphalt.

Before Liam could even get out to open my door, I shoved the handle open myself, gathered my heavy wedding skirt, and charged out of the car.

My high heels clattered loudly across the terrazzo floor of the emergency hall. Passing Pack Doctors, nurses, and the sole Pack Healer stared at my wedding dress in shock and scrambled out of my way.

"They're in the VIP ward on the third floor," Liam said, hurrying behind me, his voice dripping with guilt.

I didn't answer. I pushed straight into the private VIP elevator and jammed the button for the third floor. The sudden upward pull made my stomach churn violently.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. The sharp smell of disinfectant mixed with the coppery tang of werewolf blood hit my nose immediately.

Using my sharp werewolf sense of smell—which always identifies individuals faster than sight—I caught Darrin's distinct cedarwood scent down the hall, now tangled up with another woman's sickly-sweet herbal scent.

I followed the mixed scents toward Ward 301 at the end of the corridor. With every step I took, the old silver scars under my lace gloves throbbed in time with my racing pulse.

The heavy wooden door to Ward 301 wasn't fully shut. Through the wide gap, the voices inside carried clearly into the quiet hallway.

"Brandon, have you lost your mind? Why did you use a silver blade? Do you have any idea that could destroy your wolf and kill you!" It was Darrin's voice, half-roaring yet thick with agony.

I stopped right outside the door and looked through the gap into the bright room.

Brandon Zimmerman was propped up weakly against the hospital pillows in an oversized patient gown. Her left wrist was wrapped in thick white bandages stained with bright red blood.

Her face was deathly pale, and her light gray-blue eyes brimmed with tears as she looked pitifully at the man beside her bed.

Darrin sat on the edge of the mattress, holding her uninjured hand tightly between both of his. His broad shoulders were slumped forward in a posture of total helplessness.

"I'm just... so useless," Brandon whispered, her voice so faint it sounded ready to break. "I can't even walk, and I don't even have the right to give you and Leo a complete family. I don't want to be your burden anymore."

"Shut up! I won't let you say that!" Darrin raised his hand and gently wiped the tears from the corner of her eye with his thumb.

I stared fixedly at his hand—the exact same hand that, half an hour ago, was supposed to slide a wedding ring onto my finger.

"If you hadn't pushed me out of the way of that out-of-control race car four years ago, your legs wouldn't be paralyzed," Darrin said, his voice heavy with crushing guilt. "I owe you my life, Brandon. I'll owe you for the rest of my days."

I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. I had heard this "savior" story a thousand times over the last four years, and every time, it acted like an invisible chain tying him to her side.

Just then, the boy named Leo scrambled up from the other side of the hospital bed and threw himself into Darrin's chest.

"Don't cry, Daddy. Leo will protect Mommy," the boy said, patting Darrin's back with his small hands.

Darrin wrapped his long arms around both the boy and Brandon, using his massive Alpha frame to shield the mother and son completely inside his embrace.

Sunlight streamed through the window blinds and fell over the three of them, painting a disgusting picture of a happy family.

Standing in the cold shadow outside the door in my wedding gown, I looked like a total intruder—a joke who didn't even belong in the frame.

My chest felt like it was being crushed under a boulder, until all the rage and humiliation froze into a dead, hollow calm.

I raised my hand and shoved the half-open door with all my strength.

Bang! The solid wood panel slammed against the wall, shaking the room.

All three people on the bed jerked their heads around and stared at me in shock.

Wearing my ridiculous white wedding dress, I let my cold gaze sweep over their tangled arms.

"Looks like I interrupted a touching family reunion," I said flatly, my voice steady without a single tremor.

Darrin dropped his hands as if he had been burned and shot to his feet. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing without a sound.

On the bed, Brandon shrank back and instinctively pulled Leo behind her shoulder, acting like I was some monster about to eat her pup.

"Bella, let me explain..." Darrin finally found his voice and took a hasty step toward me.

I took half a step back and raised my right hand in its white lace glove, palm out in a sharp "stop" gesture.

"Stand right there and don't move," I snapped, looking at him with pure disgust. "The scent on your body makes me sick to my stomach."