Chapter 64
Menu
reston’s gaze never wavered from the fragile form of Georgia lying unconscious on the bed. The pale light of the room cast long shadows over her still figure, and a cold silence filled the space between them. Slowly, with a careful gentleness that seemed almost foreign to him, Preston reached out and shifted her slightly to one side. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her shirt as he peeled it up, revealing the pale skin beneath.
His eyes immediately locked on the wound that marred her waist–a deep, ugly scar that twisted across her flesh like a cruel map of pain and endurance.
His pupils tightened sharply, the sight stabbing him like ice. Our mate, Luca’s voice echoed in his mind, raw with pain and confusion. The wolf’s desperate need surged through Preston’s veins, the faint breath of life that lingered was all they had to claim her as theirs.
“Who did this?” Preston’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and bitter like a sudden blizzard ripping through still air.
The scar was grotesque, raw edges raised beneath the thin skin, a cruel testimony to some brutal past. Preston’s hand. trembled despite himself as he reached out, the weight of it unbearable. His fingers hesitated before finally brushing the uneven surface. The moment his skin met the scar, a searing heat flared through his fingertips–an ache that burned beneath his flesh, as if the wound carried its own pulse of pain.
Simon, listening over the mind link, could hear the mix of agony and anger lacing Preston’s tone. With a teasing edge, he chided, “She’s different from us. She lost her wolf. Unlike us, she can’t bounce back so quickly. And she’s been battered badly. How can you still want to push her, hurt her? That’s cruelty, Preston,”
But Preston seemed deaf to Simon’s words. His thumb traced the jagged scar, lingering on the rough, uneven patches. Then, abruptly, he covered the wound with his entire palm, pressing down as if trying to seal the pain beneath his touch.
His eyes darkened, fixed on his hand, unreadable and stormy. No one could guess what whirlwind of thoughts raged behind those burning eyes.
The mind link remained open, but Preston fell Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading!
sensing the shift, lit a cigarette at the edge
of the bed, taking a slow drag to steady his own nerves.
Then, Preston’s voice broke the quiet again. “It’s longer than my palm.”
Simon blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, catching on, he said, “I see. You mean the scar on her waist.”
Decades of friendship and understanding passed between them silently–Simon knew exactly what Preston meant.
“Longer than your palm?” Simon exhaled a cloud of gray smoke and mused, “That only means one thing. She was hurt badly, very badly. Look at how jagged that wound is. That wasn’t just an accident–that’s a laceration. A werewolf did that to her after she shifted.”
His voice dipped low with bitterness. “And whoever stitched her up was damn incompetent.
Preston frowned, his mind sharpening. “What does that mean?”
Simon’s tone grew sharper, edged with suspicion. “It means the ‘doctor‘ who treated her probably didn’t even have a license. Look at those crooked stitches–done by someone who didn’t know what they were doing. Take a photo of that
scar.
Preston hesitated. Simon pressed, “Let me see the scar for myself. There are things you can’t see–hidden truths beneath. the surface. Do you want to know? Or would you rather stay blind?”
Simon exhaled another smoke ring, waiting.
“Wait,” Simon muttered, preparing to shift the conversation, but Preston had already replied.
He quickly opened the image–it was a close–up of Georgia’s scar, ugly and jagged, stark against pale skin. There was nothing more in the frame
Verify captcha to read the content
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Wolfless, Unbroken Abandoned