Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine novel Chapter 98

Jason strides into the hospital room. His gaze sweeps through the space, taking in the machines beeping, the x-rays mounted on the wall and the physician standing quietly at my bedside.

"You're here!”

"There was a traffic jam on the highway, or I would’ve been here sooner," he says.

“You arrived faster than I expected.” Now that he’s with me, I’m happy, but part of me also feels guilty. “I hate that I inconvenienced you…”

Jason moves to the opposite side of the hospital bed to engage the physician directly.

Lina returns to the room and hands me a small cup of water. “One second you were in the ER, the next you were gone. Sorry, Grace. It took me a minute to figure out where they’d moved you to.”

“I’m fine.” I sip the water.

“Doctor, how is she?” Lina asks. “Is my friend all right? She was knocked down an escalator and fell several steps.”

Jason growls.

I blanch. His eyes flash gold and, no, no, no! He can’t lose it here. There are far too many humans…

“Easy, sir,” the doctor says. He pats Jay’s back. “Miss Cummins is stable.”

“What is my condition?” I ask.

I wish Lina hadn’t relayed the events like that. I’m not too happy with my friend right now. A muscle in Jason’s jaw starts to tick.

"The injury is not too serious,” the doctor says. “Your spleen is swollen, but there doesn’t appear to be any fluid accumulating elsewhere. You’ve a lot of bruises, but no pronounced internal bleeding.

“Thank God!” Lina says.

“You are concussed, however. You’ll experience headaches, dizziness, nausea, Concussions are a form of brain injury and you need to rest.”

I whacked my head really hard on the third stair down, I think. Then once I started tumbling, whatever body part hit the sharp metal edge of the stairs too the brunt of the damage. Thankfully, I only recall hitting my head once.

Dr. Craigge slides a number of X-rays into a rack on the wall and then flips on the lights behind them. What’s visible are my hands, my arm, ankles and wrists and feet.

The fractures and breaks are obvious.

He points to one fracture on a foot scan. “There are some slight fractures. We’ll put her one foot in a brace, and she should stay off it for a few weeks to allow the bones around her ankle to heal, but..." Dr. Craigge hesitates.

"But what?" Jason asks in a frigid tone.

I tremble.

“There are injuries that would point to more sustained, systemic trauma.” He gestures toward the X-rays of her hands. “You sustained multiple broken bones and fractures. Many of these injuries to your fingers did not set properly, and at this stage, it’s unlikely given the bone fusion and time lapsed that re-breaking and resetting the bones would affect any positive change.”

I start wringing my hands.

The pain is a welcome distraction.

The doctor clears his throat. And I force myself to meet his gaze again.

“I’ve noticed a number of areas on your hands, arms, feet and legs that point to significant trauma.”

I know damn well who and what had caused those injuries.

And the doctor… it seems like he’s digging for information. He probably thinks I am an abused woman. And I had been. Just not by some vile husband or family member.

My injuries had come in the form of retaliation and on behalf of wealthy packs.

“What is the prognosis on the older injuries?” Jason asks carefully. Again, his voice is underlaced with hostility.

“It’s hard to say,” Dr. Craigge admits. “In my professional opinion, given the traumas and how they healed, there will be numerous complications. Perhaps if Miss Cummins had sustained suitable care at the time of the assaults, the conversation would be different now…”

"Complications?" I frown. "I don't think there's anything wrong with my body."

"You are still young now, so the effects will be less pronounced, and, you’ve adequately adapted to the pain. But injuries like this can play into degenerative issues, so as you age, the complications will slowly come out."

"What kind of complications?" Jason asks bluntly.