Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 356

Chapter 356

Lucas’s POV

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I returned to the bedroom and scooped Sophia up from the blood–soaked sheets, her body limp and trembling in my arms. She didn’t fight

me this time–just hung there, silent, her face buried against my chest.

The blanket I’d wrapped around her was already soaked through, the dark stain spreading across the white fabric. I could feel the warmth

of her blood seeping through my shirt, sticky and wrong.

Fuck. Fuck.

Claire was still in the hallway when I stepped out, her arms crossed, her expression cold and calculating.

“What did you do to her?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“Get out of my way, Claire.”

“I asked you a question-”

“And I don’t have time for your bullshit.” I took a step forward, and she must have seen something in my face that made her think twice,

because she finally stepped aside.

I brushed past her without another word.

The ambulance was already waiting outside, lights flashing, back doors open. The paramedics rushed forward the second they saw us.

“Qu’est–ce qui s’est passé?” one of them asked–a woman with short dark hair. What happened?

“Elle saigne,” I said, my French rough but functional. “From–from her vagina. I don’t know why.”

They took her from me and laid her on the stretcher. I watched, helpless, as they checked her vitals, their movements quick and efficient.

“Le pouls est faible,” the dark–haired paramedic said. “Tension artérielle basse. Il faut partir.” Pulse is weak. Blood pressure’s low. We need to

move.

‘I’m coming with her,” I said in English, already climbing into the back of the ambulance.

The ride through the Paris streets was a blur of beeping monitors and urgent voices speaking rapid French. I sat beside Sophia, holding

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Chapter 356

her hand, watching the paramedics work.

She looked so small. So fragile.

:

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

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The dark–haired paramedic glanced at me, her expression carefully neutral. “On fait tout notre possible, monsieur.” We’re doing everything

we can, sir.

That wasn’t an answer. That was a fucking cop–out.

I looked down at Sophia’s face, pale beneath the oxygen mask, and felt something twist in my chest.

She wasn’t a virgin.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. We’d been together before–three years ago, before everything fell apart. But tonight had been different. The way she’d tensed when I pushed inside her, the way she’d cried out in pain–it wasn’t normal.

And she’d told me to stop.

I clenched my jaw. She’d told me to stop, and I hadn’t listened. I’d thought she was just being dramatic, that the drug was making her

overreact.

Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?

The ambulance lurched to a stop. The back doors flew open, and suddenly we were moving again–through the hospital entrance, down a

brightly lit hallway, voices shouting medical jargon in French I couldn’t follow.

They wheeled Sophia through a set of double doors, and a nurse stepped in front of me.

“Monsieur, vous devez attendre ici.” Sir, you need to wait here.

“Like hell I do-”

“Monsieur.” Her voice was firm. “Les médecins doivent l’examiner.” The doctors need to examine her.

So I stepped back and watched them disappear through the doors.

The waiting room was sterile and cold. I sank into a plastic chair, my head in my hands.

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