My Sister Stole My Husband,Now Two Alphas Want Me

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Evelyn’s POV

Panic was a cold, suffocating weight.

I paced the length of the massive private suite, the plush velvet carpet doing nothing to soothe the frantic rhythm of my heart. I checked the heavy iron-barred windows first, but they were sealed shut, overlooking the rain-slicked city streets three stories below.

My mind spun in vicious circles. It was past one in the morning. My shift wasn't over, and Tasha would be frantic. But worse—the hospital billing window closed at dawn. If I didn't show up with the cash folded into my bra, the administration would freeze Mama’s accounts. They would stop the aggressive physical therapy. They might even transfer her out of the private ICU room.

Let me out, I thought, pressing my forehead against the cool wood of the locked door. Please.

But underneath the panic for my mother, another sensation was wreaking havoc on my body. The hollow grave in my chest was burning. The dead space where my wolf used to live felt hot, raw, and violently alive. Every breath I took carried the phantom scents of cedar, winter air, and rich espresso. The dual-mate bond was a physical wire wrapped around my ribs, tightening every time I thought about the two Alphas outside.

Mates. Two of them. It’s impossible.

Then, the world shattered.

A massive, concussive explosion rocked the building. The floor violently violently bucked beneath my feet, throwing me to my knees. The glittering crystal chandelier above groaned, swaying dangerously as the lights flickered twice and died, plunging the room into darkness before the deep red glow of the emergency backup lights kicked in.

Sirens didn't wail. Instead, the building filled with a sound far more terrifying.

Heavy, automatic gunfire echoed from the lower levels, muffled by the soundproofing but heavy enough to vibrate through the walls. And beneath the gunshots came the guttural, feral roars of transforming wolves.

An attack. The Crimson Den was breaching.

I scrambled backward, pressing my back against the far wall near the fireplace as the chaos intensified. The sounds of war were moving up the stairs. Shouting, the shattering of wood, and the heavy, wet thuds of bodies hitting the walls echoed down the third-floor hallway.

Suddenly, the heavy oak door was violently thrown open.

I braced myself to scream, expecting a rival pack assassin, but the imposing silhouettes that filled the doorway belonged to the gods of the House. Killian and Dominic slammed the door shut behind them, throwing a massive iron bolt across it.

They looked like they had just walked out of a slaughterhouse. Dominic’s tailored suit jacket was gone, his white shirt torn open at the collar, his gray eyes completely blown out, glowing a lethal, predatory gold in the red emergency light.

But it was Killian who drew my attention. He was carrying the massive front-door bouncer—the man who had looked at me with such pity earlier. The giant was unconscious, his chest saturated in a terrifying volume of dark, arterial blood that was violently spurting between Killian's clamped fingers.

"Get him on the sofa," Dominic snarled, his voice half-shifted into a monstrous growl. He kicked a low coffee table out of the way. "The pack doctor is pinned down in the basement. He’s going to bleed out in minutes, Killian. The femoral artery is shredded."

Killian laid the giant down, his hands slick with crimson as he applied frantic, heavy pressure to the man's upper thigh. "Apply a tourniquet! Use a belt!"

"The wound is too high up the groin," Dominic barked, his claws extending as he ripped the bouncer's trousers away to expose the c*****e. "There’s no room to tie it off. We have to pack it, but we don't have the gear."

The dying man let out a wet, rattling gasp, his skin turning a sickly, translucent gray under the red lights.

Three years of trauma wards and ICU night shifts slammed into my brain, instantly flattening my terror. The panic, the Alphas, the werewolf politics—it all evaporated. I didn't see monsters anymore. I saw a patient exsanguinating on a table.

Before my mind could talk me out of it, I lunged forward. I dropped to my knees directly into the pool of blood on the carpet, pushing past Dominic's massive frame.

The two Alphas froze, their predatory gazes snapping to me, their bodies tensing as if to throw me away.

"I'm sorry, what can I do to help?" I demanded. My voice wasn't trembling anymore. It was clear, authoritative, and ringing with the absolute command of a head nurse.

"Get back, human—" Dominic started, reaching for my arm.

"Shut up and let me look!" I snapped, slapping his hand away without even thinking about the fact that he could snap my neck with two fingers. I leaned over the wound, my hands moving with practiced, clinical precision. "Killian, keep your hands exactly where they are. Don't let up the pressure."

Killian’s dark eyes widened in absolute shock, but beneath the dominance of his Alpha wolf, a strange, instinctual obedience took over. He held his ground.

I evaluated the tear. The artery was severed, retracting into the upper thigh. "The bleeding is too deep for a standard tie-off. Dominic, stop staring at me and go into that attached bathroom. Bring me every clean towel, sheet, and pillowcase you can find. Now!"

Dominic hesitated for a fraction of a second, his golden wolf-eyes locked onto my fierce, blood-stained face, before he turned and bolted into the bathroom like a man possessed.

"He's going into shock," I murmured, pressing two fingers against the bouncer's neck to check his fading carotid pulse. "Killian, look at me. When I tell you to move your hands, I need you to lift them just enough for me to get my fingers inside the wound to occlude the vessel. Do you understand?"

Killian looked down at me, the suffocating aura of the underworld boss completely replaced by a stunned, feral fascination. The red light painted the sharp angles of his face as he inhaled the scentless, calm air radiating off my skin.

"Ready," Killian whispered, his voice dangerously low.

"Three, two, one—move."

Killian lifted his hands, and I plunged my fingers directly into the torn flesh, searching blindly through the warm, rushing blood until my tips clamped down hard on the pulsing, ruptured artery. The heavy spurting stopped instantly, reducing to a slow, steady ooze.

A heavy thud rattled the iron-bolted door from the hallway outside, followed by the harsh sound of someone trying to kick it off its hinges.

Dominic rushed back into the room, a pile of white linens gripped in his arms, his eyes swinging violently between the rattling door and the sight of my fingers buried in his guard's thigh.

Neither Alpha moved toward the door. Neither Alpha reached for a weapon. They just stood there, completely transfixed by the fragile, scentless girl confidently controlling the boundary between life and death in the middle of their warzone.