Page 186 of Retribution
“Well, I don’t even want to look,” Corbin mutters, pulling out his phone to call the clean up crew.
“I will,” I shrug, grabbing the handle and pushing it open enough that I can see inside.
The rack has gone to heaven, and I wince in remorse as I see that there’s wood everywhere along with human flesh and limbs. She’s definitely dead, even if her spawn is walking free.
One problem at a time, and Avery isn’t mine until she makes herself my issue.
For her sake, I hope she runs as fast and far away as possible. Her brothers won’t be giving her any mercy either.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lucas
My girl is a badass, don’t get it twisted, but I still walk into the damn hospital with her hand firmly in mine. You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know she’s only going through with this for us.
Isolde would be perfectly happy with not knowing what Ophelia’s done to her body, but as her alphas, we’ll worry. I fucking want to know so that I can be ready to face whatever it is head on. These drugs can affect fertility, her heat schedule, and more.
The last thing she needs is a spontaneous heat when she’s working and away from her mates. Yes, those are the kinds of things that are currently racing through my mind. If we can’t have more kids, that’s fine, but I don’t want to put Isolde through trying.
Leila is the sweetest baby girl, and she’ll be spoiled forever either way.
Oliver, Grant, and Alesso protectively surround us as we walk through the lobby of the hospital. A doctor is standing at the desk, looking annoyed until he sees us all.
I knew there was a high probability that Isolde would be a mess of gore after killing Ophelia, so I brought a change of clothing for her. She took a quick shower in the bathroom of the warehouse while I stood guard, and now she’s dressed in a pair of brown leggings, a slouchy sweater, and a coat thrown over it all.
Grant easily cleaned off her boots and leather pants, but everything else we asked Cian to burn.
None of this changes that Isolde is still a mess of cuts and bruises, which may attribute to the doctor’s reaction.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Royal,” he says, taking us all in. “You’re running much later than I thought you’d be.”
“Do you want to know why and shit your pants, or would you prefer to live in the dark?” Isolde sasses.
Yeah, she really doesn’t fucking want to be here.
“It takes a lot for me to shit my pants,” he chuckles, his hand out, signaling us to follow him. “Try me.”
Isolde waits until we’re out of people’s ear shot to do exactly that.
“I cracked open a woman’s chest for no other reason than to hear her scream, and then used a grenade to turn her into the human version of abstract art on the walls,” she says mildly.
“That’s all, huh?”
“There was a lot more,” Grant smirks. “I would count yourself lucky to have the cliff notes version.”
“Fuck,” Dr. Royal sighs. “I’m just doing Cian Sullivan a favor. Cut me some slack.”
“There’s no chance I can have a female doctor?” Isolde asks hopefully.
It’s almost nine at night now, and the halls are quiet as he leads us to a room.
“None. Not one who won’t be scared of you at least,” Dr. Royal says.
“Is there any female staff that will be able to do any examinations that require her to be undressed?” I ask as I walk into the room with her. “That’s her request, not mine. Regardless of how ‘not scared’ you think you are, she has been through enough, Dr. Royal. If you trigger her PTSD, I don’t think you’ll be walking out of here alive.”
Grant shuts the door behind us at the right time so that it sounds exactly like the threat I mean it to be.
“I have an issue with men touching me,” Isolde says. “If you need any more context, the woman I killed today attempted to sell me to a very large audience of males yesterday so they could watch me be fucked to death. No touching.”
