He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 212

Operating purely on instinct, Ottilie reached out and grabbed the blade, blood splattering right before her eyes.

Yorath immediately seized her wrist. "What are you doing? Let go."

Clutching the sharp end of the pen tightly, she glared at him with bloodshot eyes. "I hate you, Yorath."

The moment the words left her lips, she collapsed against his chest.

He caught her, squeezing his eyes shut in agony.

She didn't love him anymore.

Everyone knew it, so how could he not?

But he simply couldn't let go.

He had spent three years trying to detox from her, but the second she reappeared, all that effort turned to ash.

Yorath carefully laid her on the bed, noticing her hand still gripped the blade in a death hold.

He held her hand, gently prying her fingers open to remove the weapon.

After dressing her in a nightgown, he opened the door.

Elian Zouch and Jevon Crawford had already arrived; they both turned to look at him as he stepped out.

Yorath's clothes were a mess, his neck and cheeks covered in fresh scratch marks.

"She's injured. Go take a look."

Elian carried his medical bag into the room and immediately spotted the long, jagged cut across Ottilie's palm.

"The cut isn't deep. She won't need stitches."

Yorath remained silent, standing by the bed as he stared down at the unconscious woman.

"She passed out suddenly. Should we take her to the hospital for some tests?"

"This isn't the first time this has happened," Elian replied. "I think it's related to whatever she went through at St. Dymphna's these past few years. We still need to track down Dr. Thorne to get the full picture."

"That bastard Thorne is hiding somewhere out of the country," Jevon noted. "It's going to take some time to flush him out."

Before Ottilie even fully woke up, she felt something wet and warm swiping across her face.

Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of a majestic, golden-furred retriever sitting by the bed, staring right at her.

"Major!" Her eyes lit up. She reached out to pet his head, only to realize her hand was heavily bandaged.

A throbbing ache pulsed through her palm.

Left with no other choice, she let him feed her.

She had originally planned to just take a few courtesy sips, but the rich, savory flavor completely caught her off guard.

She ended up finishing the entire bowl.

"There are fresh clothes on the nightstand. Change, and then come out to talk."

Yorath bent down, grabbing Major's leash to pull him out of the room.

The dog whined in protest, straining toward Ottilie, but a firm pat on the head from Yorath quickly settled him down.

Even after being led out, Major clawed at the closed door, eager to get back inside.

Jevon playfully nudged the dog with his foot. "She's changing clothes in there, you peeping tom. Don't even think about it."

Major let out two sharp barks of protest at Jevon.

Elian sat on the sofa, resting his hand on his medical bag.

Catching sight of the doctor, the dog immediately shrank back in fear, scrambling into a corner where he sat in absolute silence.

That human always gave him shots! Wasn't he supposed to treat people? A doctor treating dogs was clearly a quack. It was best to steer clear of him.