Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

BIANCA

The storage unit was located on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by fences and security cameras that probably hadn’t worked in years. I’d been paying the monthly f*e for seven years since my mother died for a space I’d visited maybe twice entirely during her death.

My hands shook a bit as I went ahead and I unlocked unit 47, the door making a loud noise as it was being pulled open to reveal the boxes that had been stacked floor to ceiling. My entire childhood, everything that I was raised with and everything my mother had owned, was right here.

I pulled out boxes from there searching for the ones marked with a symbol. It was a circle with three intersecting lines drawn on it.

As I worked, a part of my brain kept on remembering the content of the call that I had with Matthew.

Although I had hung up on him, my wolf was whimpering in pain, anguished at the thought of hurting our mate, the mate bond tugging painfully in my chest. But I have removed to pay any attention to it, pushing it away until it got the memo that I wasn’t going to go before it quietened down and settled down.

I found the journals in a box near the back, wrapped in oilcloth to protect them from moisture.

I carried the journals to a clear spot and sat cross–legged on the concrete floor, my phone’s flashlight providing light for me as I started going through the pages one after the other.

The first two journals were filled with basic healing procedures, but it was the third journal, when I started seeing things I was looking for.

A page was titled On the Nature of Curses, and Ways To Break Them.

I flipped through pages of diagrams and notes, descriptions of different curse types and their signatures. Blood curses. Bone curses. Soul curses. Each one more dangerous than the last.

I was deep into a reading about blood curses when my phone rang unexpectedly. I took a look at the caller ID ready to disconnect it if it was Matthew calling again. But it wasn’t him this time around.

The hospital. My stomach dropped.

“Dr. Morrison, this is Nurse Cindy. Louis Rivera has been rushed into emergency care. His vitals are crashing, and we’re prepping him for ICU transfer. How fast can you get here?”

I was already moving, shoving the journals into my bag, running for my car. “Ten minutes. Don’t let anyone else treat him. I’m the only one who understands what’s wrong”

“Dr. Morrison, his father is here. He’s demanding immediate intervention.”

“Ten minutes!” I said and ended the call and drove with a kind of reckless speed that would have gotten me detained by cops if there were any on the road now. As I was driving, my mind went to what Cindy had said, but my brain did not process at that moment.

I made it in eight minutes, abandoning my car in a loading zone, not bothering to even lock it and sprinted through the emergency entrance.

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