A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 386

He sprinted desperately toward the gurney.

His heavy footsteps echoed violently down the narrow hospital corridor, causing startled patients to press themselves against the walls to let him pass. The entire floor seemed to vibrate beneath his boots, mirroring the seismic collapse of his own reality.

Holden threw himself at the foot of the gurney, physically shoving three doctors out of the way as he scrambled to the head of the bed.

"Winifred... Winifred, what happened?"

She was wearing a massive oxygen mask. Beneath the plastic, her face was a terrifying, deathly gray. It looked as though she had been locked in a freezer for days. Her features were twisted in agony—one brow pulled higher than the other, her skin pinched tightly together, her eyes shut so hard her eyelashes stood straight up.

It looked like she was never going to open them again.

Holden reached out with a violently trembling hand. "What happened to you? Tell me, what happened?!"

Absolute terror consumed him. The medical staff could hear the raw panic in his voice, could see how desperately he loved her, but no one had time to care.

"Get out of the way!" Two burly doctors grabbed him by the arms and hauled him backward.

The double doors to the operating room swung open, and the gurney was rushed inside.

The last image burned into his mind was the long lump beneath the stark white sheets, her legs splayed out in a chillingly lifeless angle.

If not for the harsh red glow of the operating room sign above the doors, he would have thought she was being wheeled straight to the morgue.

"Winifred..." As the doors slammed shut, he dragged his feet forward, unable to tear his eyes away.

His vision blurred with hot tears as he slumped against the wall.

Suddenly, a furious voice shattered the air. "You bastard! Did you come here asking for a death wish?"

It was Declan. Holden turned his head.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, his voice entirely devoid of his usual arrogance, replaced by a desperate, pleading vulnerability. "What illness does she have? What's hurting her? How long has she been like this? She looked so terrible..."

Smack.

Seth.

Holden's breath hitched.

The two-year-old boy was glaring at him with eyes as sharp as daggers, looking at him with enough murderous intent to cleave him in half. His tiny fists were clenched white at his sides. He was drowning in an oversized hospital gown, his bare little legs trembling—not from cold, but from absolute, unadulterated hatred.

"You and Iris took Dr. Lewis to stop my sister's surgery?"

"My sister was dying, while you and Iris laughed with her doctor."

"My mother was driven to the edge of despair."

"You took your twisted, evil hands, and you pushed my mother... straight into the abyss."

"Holden Lockwood... one day, I am going to make you pay."

Seth's chilling glare sliced right through his soul.