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Chapter 2

Word Count: 1046    |    Released on: Today at 14:11

Isabela could hear Mrs. Gable's frantic, high-pitched screams in the distanc

e father of her children. He was her last hope. Her lips mo

ing to the whimpering woman in his arms. For a fleeting second, a

t, my leg... I can't feel my toes... I'm so scared." Her fingers dug

ing gesture seale

d his grip on Lilah, holding her tighter against his chest. He turned

y to the hospital," he command

ot Isabela.

ity of a death sentence. The last ember

asure. He didn't look back. He walked right past the spreading pool of her blood,

kness consumed her was his broad, unrelen

ceiling. The air smelled of antiseptic and despair. The fluorescent li

ed, his hair disheveled. His assistant, Arthur Cole, st

merged from one of the tre

pacing instant

said calmly. "We've put her in a brace. She'll be sore for a w

ed by a cold, creeping dread. A sprained ankle. That was all. His m

ctor, his scrubs stained with blood, rushed out, his face grim. He wa

d him. "Doctor, h

l, weary sympathy. "Mr. Slater, I'm very sorry. Your wife suffered a massive

They were just sounds, meaningless vibrations in th

blows. "We couldn't save the babies, either. I'm so sorry for y

y. Three

white walls of the hallway seemed to press in on him. He swayed on his feet, the

wild and bloodshot. "No," he rasped, his voice a raw tear in the fabric of the quiet hospital. "

at Fremont with profound pity. "There's not

guilt, so immense and powerful it threatened to drown him, crashed over him. Isabela's face flashed in his m

help he had

ont S

oice boomed do

Winston Slater, storming toward him. The family patriarch, leaning heavily on a silver

dmired her quiet strength and intelligence, seeing pas

t connected with Fremont's shoulder with a sickening thud. Fremont didn't

d with the cane toward the trauma bay. "Where is my daughter-in-law? Why was

came out. His throat was a knot of

. The old man's face crumpled in grief, which quickly morphed back

anger. "You let your wife and your children-my grandchildren-die. For an outsider. For that... tha

ir of the hallway, each word a brand

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