The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 504

hapter 247-2

“What the f**k is this?” Mayhem says, his breath coming in ragged, furious gasps. “Stitch,

what’s that bag? What did they put in him?”

“I don’t know… it’s unlabelled industrial line,” Stitch’s voice snaps into sharp, clinical overdrive,

but beneath the precision, his tone is laced with cold panic. “Tubing’s running straight into his

subclavian vein. The port is inflamed, infected.”

“f**k,” Mayhem mutters. “Infected?”

“The fluid in the bag is cloudy, yellow–tinged,” Stitch says. “It’s some kind of synthetic

sedating agent or toxin. Hammer, don’t pull the needle out if it’s a paralyzing blocker,

ripping it cold–turkey could trigger cardiac arrest. Kink the line, clamp it off right now.”

“He’s burning up, Stitch,” Dad’s voice comes through, sounding shaken to his core. “His skin

feels like fire, but he’s shaking like he’s freezing to death. His lips are blue. Locke! Hey, look at

me.”

Nothing.

“Locke, stay with me, brother,” Cobra demands, his voice rising in volume. “Open your f*****g

eyes! Locke! Look at me! Come on!”

“Pulse is thready, over a hundred and sixty, erratic as hell,” Stitch says. “Respirations are

shallow, eight breaths a minute. His pupils are blown wide and unresponsive to light. Locke!

Locke, can you hear my voice? Give me a hand squeeze. Anything. Locke, squeeze my hand…”

Still nothing. Just the sound of raw, hollow silence from Locke, punctuated only by Stitch’s

frantic tearing of medical tape and the sharp hiss of an oxygen mask.

“He’s completely unresponsive,” Stitch reports, his voice tight, breathless, and terrifyingly

grave. “He’s in severe septic shock or toxic neurological shutdown. We have no idea what’s in

his system or how long that bag’s been running into his bloodstream. His body is literally

cooking from the inside out. We need a full tox screen and an ICU trauma bay five minutes

ago!”

A choked, ragged gasp tears from my throat. Beside me, Willow lets out a sharp sob, her

hands pressing over her mouth. Jade stares stonily at the floor, her face as white as

1/3

Chapter 247-2

parchment.

“Command, this is Cobra. Target secured. We got Locke. Repeat, we got Locke.”

+25 Points

“He’s breathing, but he’s in critical shape,” Stitch says, the audio picking up the metallic snap

of a portable stretcher locking into place. “High–level trauma, severe blood loss, toxin

exposure, completely unresponsive. We aren’t waiting for the secondary sweep. We’re

carrying him out on a board right now. Heading straight to St. Jude’s Trauma. Byte, clear the

traffic lights on the western corridor!”

“We need to go,” I choke out, pushing myself up with Jade’s help. My hands are shaking violently, but the paralyzing dread is gone, replaced by a fierce, driving fire. “We need to be at

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