Chapter Eight
344 Words
Dr. George was a tall, thin man in his fifties, with streaks of grey in his hair and spectacles perched low on his nose. A top doctor with decades of experience, he had earned a reputation as an expert in his field, precise and unflinching in emergencies.
“How is she, Doctor?” Kurt asked, his face a mask of controlled concern.
Dr. George adjusted his glasses and studied Kurt before speaking, his tone grave. “The young woman has a concussion and remains unconscious,” he said carefully. “She also has multiple cuts and bruises. When you brought her in, her breathing was shallow, so we placed her on a ventilator. We’re awaiting blood results and X-rays. We’ll be monitoring her closely, Mr. Carlisle.”
Kurt’s chest tightened at the news, but his expression remained unreadable. A flicker of worry passed behind his deep blue eyes, quickly masked by the familiar poker face he presented to the world.
“Anything she wants or needs, make sure she has the best,” he said firmly. “And keep me updated immediately if there’s any change in her condition.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode from the hospital, leaving Dr. George and Shaun staring after him, mouths agape.
Once in his car, Kurt drove home through the city streets, the events of the night weighing heavily on him. Rain-slicked roads and neon lights blurred past as fatigue and irritation gnawed at him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—the girl on the highway, fragile and utterly alone.
Where had she come from? Why was she out there in such terrible weather, unconscious and bleeding?
And most of all—such a beautiful creature, someone must surely be missing her.
Kurt’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t know her name, her story, or why fate had placed her in his path, but a part of him knew he couldn’t ignore her.
For the first time in years, something—or someone—had unsettled him.
- Writer
