Chapter 4
When Nikolai returned with the spiced honey cake, I was on the couch applying a pack healer’s salve. The sharp, herbal scent of the ointment filled the room, and Isla, hiding by the window, watched him with those bright, calculating eyes of hers. Nikolai’s face paled the moment he stepped inside.
He strode toward me, his voice cutting through the air like a command from an Alpha. “Freya, what are you doing? That salve’s scent is too strong for Isla in her condition!” His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, and he didn’t even ask if my back was healing. His concern was solely for Isla.
I looked up, meeting his dark, stormy gaze. He was glaring at me, his jaw clenched, and when I didn’t respond immediately, he snatched the bottle from my hand and hurled it against the wall. The liquid splashed into my eyes, the sting immediate and searing.
I cried out, clutching my face, the pain radiating through me.
“Quiet, Freya!” Nikolai snapped, his voice booming. “You’ll upset Isla!”
Before I could even process what was happening, he slapped me—hard—and then hurried out, shielding Isla as they left. The door slammed behind them, the sound echoing in the silence they left behind. I sat there, tears streaming down my cheeks, my eyes burning and my cheek throbbing.
Blinded by the pain, I fumbled for my phone and called the pack healer. By the time I arrived at the infirmary, my vision was nearly gone, and I could barely see the faces of those around me.
Dr. Stanley Taylor examined me, his voice calm but firm. “It’s a burn,” he said. “It’ll heal with regular medication, but it’ll take a few days.” He paused, then added, “Do you have anyone to pick you up? Someone to help you while you recover?”
I shook my head, my voice quiet. “No, I’m alone here.”
He frowned, his expression softening. “Then I’ll admit you for a short stay. You shouldn’t be on your own in this state.”
Three days passed, and my eyes showed no improvement. Fear crept into my chest, and I stayed silent, unwilling to burden anyone with my struggles. My brother, Future Alpha Adonis, called to ask when I’d be returning to London. I dodged his questions, not daring to tell him the truth. He sighed, his voice heavy with concern. “Just think things over, Freya,” he said. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”
After the call, loneliness washed over me. I wanted to confide in him, to tell him everything, but I couldn’t bring myself to worry him further.
On the fourth day, as Nurse Rosalina Ramirez changed my medication, my phone rang. My eyes were still too painful to focus, so I asked her to answer it. Only later did I realize it had been Nikolai calling, and Nurse Rosalina had explained my situation to him.
My chest tightened at the thought. Since that day, he hadn’t reached out, hadn’t shown a shred of concern. I was filled with resentment, and the last thing I wanted was to see him. I imagined he was too busy tending to Isla to spare a thought for me. Strangely, that thought brought me a small sense of relief.
Since the moment he hurt me, my feelings for him had died. Now, all I wanted was to heal quickly, to leave this city behind and escape the shadow of his presence. My wolf stirred within me, a low, comforting growl of agreement.
I was done with Nikolai Lawrence.
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