Marked By The Unmated Alpha

Colliding worlds

Chapter Nine

Killian

The midday sun over Paris was blinding after eight hours trapped inside the cabin. We had pushed the jet to its absolute structural limits, cutting across the Atlantic in record time, but the math was still working against us. By the time the wheels slammed onto the tarmac, it was already past two in the afternoon local time.

I didn't wait for the stairs to fully lower before forcing the cabin door open. The city air smelled of jet fuel and old asphalt, completely lacking the crisp, cold weight of the territory back home. My wolf was frantic under my skin, pacing so violently behind my ribs that my hands were visibly shaking. The thread connecting me to Adele was still there, but it felt dangerously thin now, like a piece of silk pulled taut over a blade.

Diego was right behind me as we blew past the private terminal's security line. We bypassed the car service I usually utilized, and I grabbed the keys to a matte-black SUV our local handler had parked near the hangar. I threw the vehicle into gear, the tires screaming against the concrete as I tore out of the airport boundary and headed straight toward the city center.

"Are we heading to the apartment?" Diego asked, his hand gripping the door handle as I wove violently through the afternoon traffic on the highway.

"The office," I ground out, my knuckles white against the steering wheel. "It’s just past two. She’s supposed to be on her shift at the front desk right now."

I didn't explain the desperate logic to him. I just needed to see her. I needed to see her sitting behind that polished marble counter, looking bored or quiet, just so I could know the pull in my chest was lying to me.

I took the turns through the central district with reckless speed. When I slammed the SUV into park outside the glass towers of the branch office, I didn't even turn off the engine. I threw the door open and strode through the main entrance, my boots echoing loudly against the polished floor.

I stopped dead in front of the reception desk.

The woman sitting behind the glass wasn't Adele. It was a middle-aged woman with sharp spectacles who looked up at my sudden, aggressive entrance with immediate alarm.

"Where is Adele Lawrence?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a low growl that made the woman flinch.

"Mr. Maximus," she stammered, recognizing my name and face from the high-level corporate transition files. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure under my stare. "Adele didn't report for her shift today. Laura, her partner and roommate called the supervisor early this morning. Apparently, she had some kind of severe medical emergency and was taken to the hospital."

The cold knot in my stomach tightened until I couldn't breathe. I didn't waste time asking her stupid questions she wouldn't have the answers to. I turned on my heel, walking back toward the exit with sharp, predatory strides.

"Diego, call our local security team," I snapped, pulling open the driver's side door of the SUV. "I want every hospital database in this city pulled up in the next two minutes. Find out exactly where the ambulance took Adele Lawrence. Do it now."

Diego was already on his phone before he even hit the passenger seat. His voice was clipped, dangerous, and completely authoritative as he routed the command through our private security network. By the time I threw the car back into gear and tore away from the curb, Diego was reading the live data off his screen.

"Necker Hospital," Diego said, his eyes scanning the security ping. "Admitted at 03:42 AM. She's in the private medical wing on the third floor. I've already cleared our access with the building's security chief."

"Hold on," I muttered, slamming my foot onto the accelerator as the engine roared to life.

Laura’s POV

The sterile smell of bleach and hospital-grade plastic was making my stomach turn. I had been sitting in the exact same plastic chair for over ten hours, watching the steady, terrifying rise and fall of Adele's chest. Her skin was deathly pale, and she hadn't moved a single inch since the paramedics had wheeled her through the emergency room doors in the middle of the night.

The floor nurse adjusted the clip on Adele's index finger, her expression troubled as she looked down at the charts.

"The blood work did confirm one thing, Laura," the nurse said quietly, her voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper. "She is with child. It is still very early, only a few weeks along."

The air left my lungs all at once. I sat up straight, my hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "She's... she's pregnant?"

"Yes," the nurse replied gently. "But the doctor is certain that it has nothing to do with her current state. A pregnancy this early simply cannot cause a collapse like this, nor can it explain the cardiac arrhythmia or the extreme spike in her temperature. Her body is acting as if it is fighting off a massive physical trauma, but we cannot find a single injury on her."

"So what do we do?" My voice sounded completely wrecked, dry and cracked from hours of silent crying.

"We keep her on the cooling fluids and monitor the cardiac rhythm," the nurse replied, giving my shoulder a brief squeeze before her footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving the room heavy and quiet.

I leaned my forehead against Adele’s cool metal bed frame, my mind spinning into a chaotic, punishing spiral. Pregnant? Adele barely went out. She had only spent the night out once, just once, and now she was pregnant. Guilt clawed at my throat, suffocating me. I am the cause of this. If only I hadn't forced her to go to the club the other day, she wouldn't be here right now, broken, sick, and carrying a child borne from one night of disaster. I buried my face in my hands and wept, the silent, ugly tears soaking into my palms.

The heavy wood of the hospital door suddenly rattled, swinging back against the wall with a violent force that made the medical monitors shake.

I gasped, jumping up from my chair so fast it flipped over backward and crashed loudly against the linoleum. "What the hell? You can't just"

The words died instantly in my throat.

Two massive men filled the doorway, blocking out the corridor light behind them completely. Whatever scent clung to their jackets was unexpectedly pleasant, warm and grounding in a way that felt entirely out of place against the sterile hospital air.

The man who stepped into the room first stopped dead. His sharp eyes swept the room before landing directly on my face. The moment his gaze found me, his entire body went rigid.

My mouth fell open. The blood drained from my face so fast the room tilted.

It was the guy from the club.

The gorgeous, dangerous stranger I had brought back to the apartment two weeks ago, the one I’d had that mind-blowing night with. Adele had met him at the house as well, just the other day. And he had left without sending so much as a single message since.

"You," he breathed, his voice a low, disbelieving murmur that vibrated right through the small room.

"The guy from the club?" I stammered, terror twisting into total, unadulterated confusion. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

Before he could even attempt to answer, the second man strode past him.

It was Killian Maximus. The cold, ruthless billionaire who had just bought out our company. He didn't look at me. He didn't look at the room. His intense, amber eyes were locked entirely on Adele, wide with a raw, terrifying desperation that looked completely feral. He moved toward the side of her bed in a single, silent stride, his hand reaching out blindly toward her face.

Beside my head, Adele's heart monitor began to beep in a frantic, high-pitched frenzy as her pulse skyrocketed.

"Get away from her!" I screamed, panic overriding my shock as I threw myself directly between the billionaire and the bed, slamming my hands hard against his chest. "Don't touch her! I said Don't touch her!"