hapter 78: <b>Cold </b>Hearts and Snow <b>Wounds</b>–1
Chapter 78: Cold Hearts and Snow Wounds.
(Third person’s POV)
The insistent ringing of a phone cut through the peaceful darkness of Olivia’s bedroom. She groaned, reluctantly opening her amber eyes to nce at the clock–3:17 AM.
Connor’s arm tightened around her waist as she reached for her phone. His warm body pressed against her back, aforting presence in the pre–dawn darkness.
“Who is it?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
Olivia squinted at the screen. “Jason Mitchell.”
Connor growled softly, his wolf displeased at the interruption. “Ethan’s friend? At this hour?”
With a sigh, Olivia answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Jason, do you have any idea what time it is?” “Olivia, thank goodness you answered.” Jason’s voice was tense<b>, </b>urgent. “It’s Ethan. He’s in the hospital.”
Olivia sat up, her brow furrowing. “What happened?”
“He was found copsed in the snow not far from your apartment building. Severe hypothermia. The doctors say he could have died if he hadn’t been found when he was.”
Connor sat up beside her, his ice–blue eyes now fully alert. His expression darkened as he listened to Jason’s
words.
“He’s asking for you, Olivia,” Jason continued. “He’s in bad shape. Could youe to Harbor City Memorial?” Olivia’s wolf, so content moments ago in Connor’s presence, now bristled with irritation. She’d made her choice clear to Ethan just hours ago
“If he’s dead, just take care of the body,” she retorted, her amber eyes shing. “Let me know when the funeral is. For old times‘ sake, Il send his mother a nice moonlight herb arrangement.”
Without waiting for Jason’s response, she hung up and immediately turned off her phone. The bedroom fell back into darkness, silent except for their breathing.
“Livvy,” Connor murmured, pulling her back down beside him. “Come back to bed.”
His ice–blue eyes were heavy with sleep as he wrapped his arms around her possessively. His wolf rumbled contentedly as she settled against him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, nestling into his embrace.
Their wolves, perfectly aligned and content in each other’s presence, drifted back to sleep, oblivious to the drama unfolding across the city.
In a sterile room at Harbor City Memorial Hospital, Ethan Greyy propped against white <b>pillows</b>, his normally vibrant appearance dulled by exhaustion and illness. An IV dripped steadily into his arm, warming his blood that had nearly frozen in the bitter cold.
Jason Mitchell stood awkwardly by the bed, his phone on speaker between them. The hope that had briefly flickered in Ethan’s blue eyes died as Olivia’s cold words filled the room.
<b>17/2 </b>
Ofapte 78 Cold Heans ar
If <b>he’s </b>dead<b>, </b><b>just </b>take care <b>of </b>the <b>body</b>. Let <b>me </b>know when the funeral For <b>old </b>manske, ri, Len mother a nice <b>moonlight </b>herb arrangement:
The call disconnected abruptly, leaving a heavy silence in the hospital room.
Ethan’s wolf, which had perked up at the sound of Olivia’s voice, now whimpered and retreated <b>deep </b>within him. His fists clenched in the thin hospital nket, knuckles turning white with strain.
“Ethan, I’m sorry,” Jason said quietly, pocketing his phone. “I shouldn’t have called her.*
Ethan’s face was pale, almost as white as the sheets around him. The machines monitoring his vital signs beeped steadily, the only <b>sound </b>in the oppressive silence.
“Leave me alone,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His blue eyes, usually so confident andmanding, now reflected nothing but despair.
Jason hesitated, concern evident on his face. “Are you sure? I don’t think you should be alone right now
“Just go,” Ethan insisted, turning his face away.
With reluctance, Jason nodded and moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you<b>.</b>” Ethan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the window where snow continued to fall silently over Harbor City. His wolf, once proud and dominant, nowy broken within him, mourning the loss of a mate it had never truly
imed.
Jason Mitchell stepped into the hospital corridor, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his tired face.
“”How is he?”
The feminine voice startled him. Cassandra Evans stood a few feet away, her green–gold eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern. Her blonde hair was hastily pulled back, and she wore a designer coat over what looked like pajamas.
“Cassandra,” <b>Jason </b>acknowledged, his tone neutral. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about Ethan,” she said, stepping closer. “Is he going to be alright?”
Jason studied her for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “Physically, yes. The doctors say he’ll recover <b>from </b>the hypothermia.”
“What happened?” Cassandra pressed, her wolf’s curiosity evident in her intense gaze.
“He copsed in the snow near Olivia’s apartment building. Jason exined reluctantly. “After wandering around in freezing temperatures for hours.”