Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210

Elsa

Suddenly, a short man appeared from behind a storage shed, his face

contorted with rage. “You’ve all seen too much,” he shouted,

brandishing a knife that caught the sunlight. “None of you can leave

now!”

Everything happened in slow motion. The man charged toward us,

knife raised. My instinct was to push Drake away, to protect him—my

hands actually pressed against his back–but he held firm, keeping me

shielded behind his larger frame.

I heard the sickening sound of the blade entering flesh, followed by

Drake’s pained grunt. My blood turned to ice, a cold wave of horror

washing over me. Drake had been stabbed. Because of me. Because he

was protecting me.

“No! Fuck, no!” The words tore from my throat as rage and fear

collided inside me.

Without thinking, I yanked off my shoe and swung it at the attacker’s

head, the sharp heel connecting with his temple with a satisfying

thud. He staggered but didn’t fall. My heart pounded in my ears as

adrenaline surged through my body. I grabbed my purse, swinging the

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metal chain strap like a weapon, my hands shaking with fury. The

chain wrapped around the man’s wrist, and I pulled with all my

strength, my teeth bared in a snarl that mirrored the rabid dogs.

“You fucking bastard!” I screamed, all rational thought gone.

Drake, despite his wound, managed to kick the attacker away. Taylor,

Drake’s bodyguard, appeared from nowhere, tackling the man to the

ground.

Pain erupted in my left arm–white–hot and blinding. I hadn’t seen

the knife slice through my skin, but suddenly blood was everywhere,

streaming down my arm in rivulets. The cut was deep, exposing white

bone beneath torn flesh. I stared at it in shock, my mind refusing to

process what my eyes were seeing.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, swaying on my feet as nausea rolled through

1. me. “Oh god, that’s my bone.”

Police sirens wailed in the distance. The short man struggled against

Taylor’s grip, still swinging the knife wildly. A gunshot cracked

through the air, and the attacker went still, a neat hole appearing in

the center of his forehead.

I couldn’t look away, couldn’t process what I was seeing. The world

swam before my eyes, blood and violence and death all blurring

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together. My chest heaved with panicked breaths as my mind

struggled to catch up with reality.

Allen’s hand covered my eyes. “Don’t look at this,” he said softly, his

voice steady despite the chaos. His palm was warm against my face, and I found myself leaning into the touch, desperate for something- anything–to anchor me.

The hospital emergency room buzzed with frantic energy. Doctors

and nurses rushed between beds, their faces grim. My arm throbbed

with each heartbeat, the temporary bandage already soaked through with blood. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, trying not to

whimper with each pulse of agony.

“The laceration is deep,” a doctor told me, examining my arm with a

clinical detachment that made me want to scream. “You’ll need

stitches immediately.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. The thought of needles

piercing my skin made my stomach churn.

Across from me, Susan sobbed loudly as nurses attended to dog bites

on her legs and arms. Her injuries looked painful, deep puncture wounds that would likely leave scars. Despite everything, a small

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twinge of sympathy flickered in my chest.

“We need to take her to surgery,” a nurse announced. “The bite

penetrated an artery.”

Susan’s tear–streaked face turned toward Allen. “Don’t leave me,” she

begged, reaching for him with trembling fingers. “Please, I’m scared.”

Allen hesitated, glancing at me with concern in his eyes. His

expression was torn, caught between two obligations.

“Go,” I said quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She needs

you. I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine–far from it–but I’d be damned if I’d beg

for attention.

As Allen followed Susan’s gurney, Drake’s voice came from the bed

next to mine.

“He abandoned you again,” he said, wincing as a nurse cleaned the

wound in his abdomen. “How many times does this make?”

I turned to look at him, anger flaring despite my pain. My eyes

narrowed as I hissed, “He’s not abandoning me. He’s helping someone

who needs it. Not everyone is a selfish asshole like you.”

Drake’s eyes met mine, gold flecks dancing in his dark irises. “And you

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don’t need help?”

The doctor approached with a tray of suturing equipment. At the

sight of the needle, my body began to tremble uncontrollably. I’d

always had a phobia of needles, ever since childhood. Cold sweat

broke out across my forehead, and my breathing became shallow and

rapid

“Try to hold still, Ms. Hale,” the doctor said, not unkindly. “This will

hurt less if you don’t move.”

I nodded, but my body wouldn’t obey. The trembling intensified as

the needle came closer to my torn flesh. “Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered,

my voice shaking as badly as my hands.

“Fuck,” Drake muttered from beside me. Despite the doctor’s protests,

he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. His face was

ashen with pain, but determination hardened his features.

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