Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Twenty-Four Hours to Live

The early morning sun had barely pierced through the shutters of the Grefo estate when Dorrent stepped out into the corridor. His tall, massive frame was trapped in a disorganized state—his shirt unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his broad, muscular shoulders, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead, his eyes still cloudy from the lingering weight of a restless sleep. He had been plagued by her defiant words all night, his pathways constantly processing the maddening biological puzzle of her lineage.

As he walked past Jannah’s bedroom suite, a faint sound from inside caught his attention. It was a rapid, shallow, and agonizing wheeze.

Dorrent’s instincts instantly spiked. He threw the door open, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits as he marched toward the bed. The sight that met his gaze completely shattered the remnants of his morning grogginess.

Jannah was curled into a tight, desperate fetal position beneath the sheets, her entire body shivering and shaking with a violent, uncontrollable tremor. Her skin, which had shown a promising, healthy progress just yesterday evening, was now a sickening, translucent shade of gray-white. Her pale lips were split and parched, and a layer of sweat coated her forehead. She was clawing at the blankets with her left hand, her chest heaving as she let out low, broken whines of physical discomfort.

"Jannah!" Dorrent growled, his deep voice dropping into a panicked register as he instantly stepped to the edge of the mattress. He slammed his palm against her forehead, and his hand recoiled slightly from the volcanic heat radiating from her skull. Her fever had skyrocketed. "What the hell happened to your system? You were perfectly stable twelve hours ago."

Jannah didn’t answer. Her dark eyes were rolled back slightly, her consciousness entirely submerged in a sea of delirium as the violent tremors continued to rack her fragile, broken frame.

Dorrent didn’t waste a single micro-second. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone, frantically dialing the private number of Miss Belle.

"The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently switched off. Please try again later."

"Dammit!" Dorrent cursed fiercely, a dangerous growl ripping from his chest as he violently shoved the device back into his pocket.

Without a shred of hesitation, Dorrent bent down and ripped the heavy blankets away. He slid his powerful arms beneath Jannah’s shivering, naked legs and upper back, hoisting her fragile frame up in a sudden bridal carry. He didn’t even care that he was half-dressed, his unbuttoned shirt billowing behind him as he kicked the bedroom doors open and ran down the marble corridor toward the adjacent luxury wing.

"Shadron! Get your pathetic ass out here right now!" Dorrent roared, his voice booming across the grand architecture of the mansion like a localized thunderstorm.

A split second later, the door to the neighboring suite flew open, and Shadron Valerius stumbled out into the hallway, hastily pulling a designer robe over his shoulders, his silver hair completely uncombed. "What the fuck, Dorrent?! Why the hell are you screaming at—"

Shadron’s voice cut off instantly as his eyes locked onto the shivering, half-dead girl cradled inside Dorrent’s iron grip. The heavy, sweet smell of her omega distress pheromones was suffocating, filling the hallway with the scent of burning floral nectar.

"We are heading to the Upper District Hospital this exact second," Dorrent commanded, his silver eyes flashing with a predatory light that made his S-tier Alpha authority expand down the corridor. "Go to the lower garage and start the armored transport. Now!"

Shadron didn’t ask a single stupid question. Recognizing the lethal, volatile state of his billionaire friend, he spun on his heel and sprinted down the grand staircase toward the lower levels of the estate. Dorrent followed right behind him, his shoes pounding against the steps, his arms tightening around Jannah’s trembling frame as he fought to keep her internal temperature from completely cooking her organs.

The drive through the districts was a blur of high-speed violence. Shadron tore through the automated traffic grids, the armored transport’s engine roaring as it swerved past luxury sedans, eventually slamming to a violent halt right in front of the emergency bay of the Upper District Hospital.

The moment the vehicle stopped, Dorrent kicked the passenger door open, sprinting through the glass sliding doors with Jannah in his arms.

"Get your chief of medicine out here this exact second!" Dorrent barked at the intake desk, his frame radiating such a suffocating, terrifying wave of winter-frost pheromones that the automated security droids and clinical staff instantly froze in biological terror. "If this girl’s heart stops under this roof, I will personally pull my entire funding from this district and dismantle this facility piece by piece!"

Within thirty seconds, a full trauma team of surgeons and specialists rushed into the lobby with a high-tech mobile stabilization gurney. They carefully transferred Jannah’s shivering, sweat-soaked frame onto the padding, immediately hooking her up to portable automated diagnostic monitors that began to beep in a series of chaotic, red-alert frequencies. Dorrent stood like an immovable, furious titan in the center of the corridor, his unbuttoned shirt stained with her cold sweat, his silver eyes tracking the gurney until it completely disappeared behind the reinforced, double-sterile doors of the intensive surgical theater.

Two hours crawled by in absolute, suffocating silence. Dorrent refused to sit down, pacing back and forth across the pristine tile floor like a caged panther, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists in his pockets. Shadron stood lean against the far wall, his expression serious and calculating as he watched his best friend spiral deeper into a toxic, possessive madness.

Finally, the electronic seal on the surgical doors hissed open, and the Chief of Medical Trauma, a senior Beta doctor with decades of experience, stepped out into the hallway. His face was entirely pale, his brow furrowed in a line of extreme confusion as he pulled off his surgical gloves.

Dorrent instantly closed the distance, his massive frame completely crowding the doctor’s space. "What is her baseline metric?" Dorrent demanded, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that carried a dangerous edge. "Why the hell did her system collapse after showing progress yesterday?"

The doctor swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at the tech tycoon. "Alpha Grefo... we have successfully stabilized her internal temperature for the next few hours, but the reality of her condition is exceptionally critical. When we opened her bandages to inspect her surgical site, we discovered that her bullet wound has become infected. Her tissue is undergoing a rapid, cellular degradation."

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