Page 155 of Knotted By my Pack

The nurse finally tells us Elias is in surgery. Says the bullet missed his heart by an inch but ruptured a vessel. Says the bleeding was bad, but they got to him fast.

She doesn’t say what I really need to hear.

I nod, thank her, then go back to standing against the wall like I’ve been nailed there.

Damien’s gone. They cuffed him and dragged him out, yelling about how none of us deserved what he built. About how this town would rot without him. He kept calling it justice.

I didn’t answer once. I just watched the blood on Elias’s shirt and thought about how everything could’ve ended differently if I’d done something—anything—sooner.

The doors swing open again. A man in blue scrubs steps out, wiping his hands, calm in a way that makes everyone in the waiting room freeze.

“Elias Hawthorne,” he says.

We rush toward him.

“He’s stable,” the doctor says. “Your friend’s an Alpha. Strong regenerative properties. That helped. But he lost a lot of blood, and we need to move quickly with a transfusion.”

“I’ll donate,” Noah says before the doctor finishes.

“Me too,” Cora says.

“Same,” I add.

The doctor nods. “We’ll test everyone.”

I wait until they disappear with the nurse, then turn down the hall.

There’s a quiet corridor near the emergency stairwell. I pull my phone from my coat and dial the number I deleted weeks ago.

It rings once. Twice. Then he answers.

“You finally grew a spine.” My father’s voice slides down the line like oil.

“You’re finished,” I say, keeping my voice level. “The permits are dead. Beckett’s pulling his crew. Noah, Lockwood’s replacement, he’s a part of my pack. Damien’s in custody. And your name’s already poison in this town.”

“You think they care about you?” he snaps. “You think they’ll take your side? After everything?”

“I’ll make them. I’ll bury you in court filings and bad press. I’ll drag your skeletons into the sun and burn them down to ash. You forget that I know where everything is hidden. You can keep pursuing this, or I can come for you and the oil industry you’re trying to be a part of. You and Damien. You’re both done.”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, low and bitter, he mutters, “You always were a mistake.”

I laugh, empty. “Then I’m your final one.”

“You threaten me again?—”

“I’m not threatening. I’m promising. You’ve got one chance left. Call off your dogs. Leave this town. And pray you disappear before I finish what Elias started.”

He says something else.

I hang up mid-word.

Stare at the wall.

And breathe for the first time since the gun went off.

42

CORA