Chapter 4: The Hospital Confession

I never expected that when I raced into the downtown Boise hospital’s VIP suite, I’d find Madison Evans—the prom queen—banging on the door, desperate to get in.

"Let me in!"

She pounded the wood, nails clicking, her hair perfect even in the harsh fluorescent light.

"It’s the full moon! Caleb might need me! Caleb, just let me help you!"

I almost laughed. Derek said Madison wasn’t an easy girl, but here she was, offering herself to his brother.

The bodyguard, blocking her way, saw me and immediately opened the door, eyes brimming with relief:

"Aubrey, thank God you’re here! Please—he needs you tonight!"

Jealousy twisted Madison’s face. She shrieked:

"Why does Aubrey Taylor get to go in? Caleb was hurt saving her! She’s a curse! How dare you let her in?"

I froze. Save me? What did she mean?

Inside, chaos reigned. Caleb lay shirtless on the bed, face flushed, sweat plastering his short hair to his forehead. The room reeked of antiseptic, burnt fabric, and blood.

His fingers were white-knuckled from the pain, thick white bandages on his back already soaked through with red.

The linoleum gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights. Somewhere, a nurse’s sneakers squeaked down the hall. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose.

The doctor hovered, panicked:

"Sir, you can’t keep this up. You need help—now. We’re running out of time."

"Your blood isn’t clotting, and the meds aren’t working. If we don’t cool you down, you might bleed out tonight."

He turned to me, frantic: "You—are you the girl who can save him? When are you getting here?"

The bodyguards spotted me and straightened up, nodding like I was the only hope left.

"Doctor, she’s here!"

At that, Caleb’s eyes snapped open—dark red, burning, furious and desperate, locked on my face:

"Who brought her? Get her out!"

The bodyguard didn’t flinch:

"That was me, sir. If she can save you, I’ll take whatever punishment you want. But you risked your life for her twice, and you never ask for anything. Maybe you’re fine with that, but we’re not!"

I studied Caleb—so powerful, so intimidating, I usually avoided him at all costs. The guy everyone called the King of Hell, who could silence a room with one look. Now, he was gripping the bedsheet, fighting to stay in control, his whole body burning up, breathing ragged. The contrast was jarring—a beautiful, broken man lying in bed, fighting for his life.

"He was hurt because of me?" I asked, stunned.

The bodyguard started to answer, but Caleb cut him off, voice rough:

"Shut up. Say one more word and see what happens."

He tried to soften, his voice strained and distant: "Aubrey, go. I don’t need you here."

His jaw clenched, but his eyes lingered on me, desperate and scared under the tough act.

The bodyguard pressed on:

"Sir, drop the act. You can’t keep going like this. When Aubrey’s in trouble, you’d run through fire to save her. Who are you kidding?"