Chapter 5

Sloane's POV

The second morning, I balanced the glass of water and painkillers in my hands as I pushed open the bedroom door. Goddess, I was still getting used to having someone else in my space. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the moment he saw me, his whole body went rigid.

"Hey, it's okay," I said, trying to keep my voice soft and non-threatening. I set the glass down on the nightstand carefully. "This is medicine. It'll help with the pain."

Those black eyes of his tracked my every movement like he was expecting me to hurt him. What the hell happened to this guy? The wariness in his gaze made my chest ache. When I stepped closer to check his bandages, he jerked backward so fast I thought he might fall off the bed.

I stopped immediately and held up both hands. "I'm not going to hurt you," I said, even though I knew he probably couldn't understand me. I pointed to his chest, then to myself, trying to mime checking his wounds.

We stared at each other for what felt like forever. I could see him weighing his options, probably trying to figure out if I was a threat. Finally, slowly, he gave me the tiniest nod.

When I peeled back the bandages, I literally gasped. The nasty gash from yesterday was already scabbing over. My hands froze. What the actual fuck? No normal person healed this fast.

"Your recovery is... wow," I muttered, mostly to myself. Is he some kind of Alpha? But even Alphas don't heal this crazy fast...

This time when I changed his dressings, he didn't flinch away. He actually let me work, only wincing slightly when I had to clean around the edges. Progress, I guess.

By day three, reality was starting to hit me like a freight train.

I called Dr. Harris from the kitchen, keeping my voice low. "Dr. Harris, it's me, Sloane."

"How are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better. I should be able to come back tomorrow." Thank Goddess. I need the money now more than ever.

"Wonderful. Rest well."

After I hung up, I stared at my pathetic excuse for a pantry. Three cans of soup, some crackers, and half a loaf of bread. Shit. My stomach was already growling, and I'd been giving him most of the food.

OK. It's been two days already. It was time to let him go.

Before I could chicken out, I grabbed my phone. "Hello, I'd like to inquire about admitting a patient..."

The woman on the other end was professional and efficient. "We can send a transport team tomorrow morning at ten."

"Thank you." I hung up and immediately felt like throwing up. It's for the best, I told myself. He'll get proper care, and I can go back to my normal life.

The next morning, I brought him breakfast like usual, trying to act like everything was fine.

"Today's breakfast," I announced, setting the tray down. He ate with those same clumsy movements, like he was relearning how to be human. Watching him struggle with the spoon made guilt twist in my stomach like a knife.

I should tell him. But how do you explain to someone who might not even understand language that you're about to ship them off to strangers?

"We need to go out for a bit," I said, gesturing toward the door.

His reaction was immediate and violent. He shook his head frantically and grabbed the bedsheet with white knuckles.

Oh Goddess, he maybe knows.

"It'll be fine," I lied. He was getting more agitated by the second, and I was starting to panic.

That's when the universe decided to royally screw me over.

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The front door practically exploded under the assault.

"Sloane! I know you're in there! Open this fucking door!"

My blood turned to ice water. Martin. How the hell had he found me?

I ran to the door, my hands shaking as I tried to reinforce the flimsy lock. But it was too late. CRACK! The wood splintered, and Martin stumbled through like the drunk piece of shit he was.

He looked even worse than usual, clothes wrinkled, eyes bloodshot, reeking of cheap whiskey and failure. There were scratches across his face like he'd been in a fight. When he spoke, his words slurred together. "Victoria was right. A useless bitch like you should marry that old pervert to pay off my debts!"

I thought I might vomit. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" I pressed myself against the wall, looking for an escape route.

"You don't get a fucking choice!" Martin lunged forward with his filthy hands reaching for me.

I dodged sideways, trying to make it to the door, but he was blocking the only way out. This place was too isolated, I could scream my lungs out and nobody would hear me.

His fingers closed around my arm like a vice, nails digging deep enough to break skin. "You're coming with me right now, you little—"

That's when everything changed.

A dark blur exploded out of the bedroom. One second Martin was grabbing me, the next he was flying through the air and slamming into the wall with a sickening thud.

The man stood between us, and holy shit, he was terrifying. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready to spring.

"Grrrrrr—"

Martin took one look at him. "Crazy! He's fucking crazy!" He scrambled up and ran like the devil was chasing him.

The man waited until Martin's footsteps disappeared completely before turning to me. The rage melted off his face instantly, replaced by the gentlest expression I'd ever seen. He approached me like I was made of glass.

"You saved me," I whispered, and then I completely lost it.

He pressed his forehead against my shoulder so carefully, making these soft rumbling sounds in his chest. It was the most tender thing anyone had ever done for me.

I wrapped my arms around him and sobbed like a baby. "Thank you for protecting me." All the fear, the stress, the guilt, it all came pouring out while he held me.

He went stiff for a second, probably not used to human contact. Then his arms came around me, awkward but warm, and those gentle rumbling sounds got louder. Like he was trying to comfort me the only way he knew how.

"I won't send you away," I promised against his chest. "You can stay here as long as you need to."

I felt him relax, like he understood the emotion behind my words even if he couldn't understand the language.

His healing is so fast, he'll probably remember who he is soon. I was already mentally preparing myself for that day. When he does, he'll want to leave. And I'll let him go.

And now, the first thing I had to do was grab my phone and cancel my appointment with the care facility.