A Desperate Escape (Third person's POV)

The sterile corridors of Ocean City Regional Hospital bustled with activity as nurses rushed toward the private wing. Inside the luxurious waiting area, chaos had erupted. Elara Rivers lay unconscious on the floor, her skin burning with an unnatural heat that radiated even through her thin clothes.

"What's happening to her?" Damon demanded, taking a step back as Elara's body began to convulse slightly.

Mike knelt beside her, pressing a hand to her forehead only to yank it back immediately. "She's burning up. This isn't normal."

The door burst open as Dr. Alex Walker rushed in, his white coat flapping behind him. The doctor was in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp, observant eyes that missed nothing.

"Move aside," he ordered, his authoritative tone brooking no argument even from the son of the former Alpha King.

He crouched beside Elara, checking her pulse and lifting her eyelids. What he saw made him curse under his breath.

"She's experiencing severe wolf-fever," Dr. Walker announced, his voice clinical but with an undercurrent of concern. "Her wolf form is collapsing from prolonged silver exposure."

Vivian Stone stepped forward, her elegant features twisted with impatience. "Can you still perform the transplant?"

Dr. Walker shot her an incredulous look. "She needs emergency treatment or both her human and wolf forms could die. The transplant is out of the question right now."

He gestured to the nurses who had followed him in. They quickly transferred Elara onto a gurney, attaching an IV line to her arm with practiced efficiency.

Damon grabbed Mike's arm, pulling him aside. "You said she was faking it," he growled, his blue eyes flashing with accusation.

Mike's expression hardened. "I thought she was. This is... unexpected."

Vivian approached Dr. Walker, her dominance rolling off her in waves. "My daughter needs that kidney. How long until this... complication... is resolved?"

Dr. Walker, to his credit, didn't flinch under her powerful aura. "I'm a doctor first, Mrs. Stone. My priority is saving her life right now."

As they wheeled Elara toward the emergency treatment area, Damon watched with narrowed eyes. His wolf paced restlessly within him, frustrated that their revenge was being delayed.

"This changes nothing," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "She'll pay one way or another."

(Elara's POV)

Fire. My body was on fire. Through the haze of fever, I could feel Emily, my wolf, whimpering and thrashing within me. The silver poisoning had finally reached critical levels, threatening to extinguish her completely.

Voices floated around me, distorted and distant. Someone was moving me, bright lights passing overhead. The antiseptic smell of the hospital burned my sensitive nose.

"Massive silver toxicity... heart arrhythmia... wolf form severely compromised..."

The clinical voice faded in and out as darkness pulled at the edges of my consciousness. This wasn't the first time I'd faced death. Five years ago, I'd been here before.

The memory surfaced through my fever—another hospital, another emergency. I had been eight months pregnant, my body convulsing as I went into premature labor. My wolf had been too weak to protect me then too.

"Stay with me, Elara," a voice had urged. Not Mike's voice. Not Damon's. But Caleb's—my biological brother who had found me collapsed after the pack trial.

His face had been the last thing I saw before they rushed me into surgery. And later, he had been the one to place my tiny son in my arms, promising to take Ethan and raise him as his own until I could return.

"She's seizing!" a voice called out, pulling me back to the present.

My body arched off the gurney as pain ripped through me. Emily howled within, fighting desperately to survive.

"Push 10mg of wolf-stabilizer," Dr. Walker's voice ordered. "And get me those silver detox solutions."

Cool liquid flowed into my veins, gradually dulling the burning sensation. Emily settled slightly, though her presence remained frighteningly weak.

I forced my eyes open, the harsh lights of the emergency room making me wince. Dr. Walker stood over me, concern etched on his face.

"Ms. Rivers," he said, noticing I was conscious. "Can you hear me?"

I tried to nod, but even that small movement sent fresh waves of pain through my body.

"You're experiencing severe wolf-fever," he explained, checking my vitals. "Your wolf form has been compromised by prolonged silver exposure."

A nurse peeled back my hospital gown, and I heard Dr. Walker's sharp intake of breath. Through blurry vision, I saw him examining the silver burn marks that crisscrossed my skin—souvenirs from the containment facility.

"These aren't standard containment procedures," he muttered, his voice tight with controlled anger. "This is torture."

The door burst open, and Damon stalked in, his powerful presence filling the room.

"How long until she can donate?" he demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

Dr. Walker straightened, placing himself between Damon and my bed. "That's not happening anytime soon, Mr. Thorne."

Damon's wolf surged forward, his eyes flashing amber. "Isabella needs that kidney."

"And Ms. Rivers needs to live," Dr. Walker countered, unflinching. "Look at these marks. Her system is saturated with wolfsbane and silver residue."

He pointed to the monitors where my vitals flickered erratically. "Her wolf is barely hanging on. The stress of organ donation would kill her instantly."

Damon's jaw clenched. "So fix her."

Dr. Walker's laugh was without humor. "It doesn't work that way. Her wolf needs time to recover. Proper nutrition, clean air, freedom from silver exposure."

"How long?" Damon demanded.

"Weeks, possibly months," Dr. Walker replied bluntly. "And that's assuming she survives the next 48 hours."

I watched through half-closed eyes as frustration warred with calculation on Damon's face. His wolf was radiating anger, but he was too strategic to waste a useful resource.

"You have two choices," Dr. Walker continued. "Allow her proper recovery time until she meets health standards for donation, or find another compatible wolf."

Damon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And if I choose to override your medical opinion?"

Dr. Walker didn't hesitate. "Then I'll report you to Alpha King Lucian for violating pack medical protocol."

At the mention of Lucian, Damon's demeanor changed subtly. His wolf retreated slightly, and his expression became more guarded.

"Fine," he spat, his voice cold. "Heal her. But post a guard. She doesn't leave this room."

After Damon left, Dr. Walker turned back to me, his expression softening slightly. "Rest now. Your wolf needs all the strength you can give her."

I nodded weakly, fighting to stay awake despite the exhaustion pulling at me. I needed to plan. This unexpected development had bought me time, but I knew the Stone Pack and Damon wouldn't let me go easily.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tests, medications, and fitful sleep. Emily gradually stabilized, though she remained dangerously weak. My human form wasn't much better, the years of silver exposure having taken a severe toll on my already compromised heart.

Through half-opened eyes, I watched the hospital routine unfold. The guard Damon had posted—a burly wolf named Anthony—sat by the door, looking bored. Nurses came and went, checking my vitals and adjusting my medications.

As evening fell, I noticed Anthony getting restless, checking his phone repeatedly. When a nurse entered with my dinner tray, I heard them exchange low whispers.

"Just five minutes," Anthony said. "Nature calls."

The nurse—Mrs. Davis, according to her nametag—nodded. "I'll watch her. Not like she's going anywhere in that condition."

The moment Anthony left, Mrs. Davis set down the tray and turned to check my IV. Her back was to me for just a few precious seconds. It was now or never.

I pushed myself up on trembling arms, ignoring the screaming protest from my muscles. Emily stirred within me, sensing my intent.

"Just once more, Emily," I whispered to her. "Lend me your strength one last time."

My wolf, weak as she was, responded. A surge of primal energy flowed through me—not much, but enough. With a silent prayer, I disconnected the IV and slid off the bed.

My legs nearly buckled, but I forced myself to remain upright. Mrs. Davis was still occupied with preparing medications, her back to me. I inched toward the door, each step an agony of effort.

The corridor outside was mercifully empty. I remembered the hospital layout from my previous stay—the service elevators were just around the corner, leading to the laundry area and eventually an exit.

I moved as quickly as my weakened body allowed, pressing myself against the wall for support. Each step sent waves of dizziness washing over me, but Emily rallied, pushing me forward.

The service elevator doors opened with a soft ping. I stumbled inside, pressing the button for the basement level. As the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of Anthony returning to my room. His shocked expression would have been comical under different circumstances.

The basement was dim and humid, filled with the sounds of industrial washing machines. Following the signs for "Staff Exit," I made my way through a maze of corridors until I reached a heavy metal door that opened onto a loading dock.

The night air hit me like a blessing, cool against my fever-heated skin. Freedom. But I knew it was temporary at best. Once they discovered my absence, Damon would tear the city apart looking for me.

With trembling fingers, I reached into the waistband of my hospital pants, retrieving the phone I'd managed to hide there during the chaos of my collapse. It was a risk stealing it from a nurse's station, but I had no choice.

There was only one number saved in the phone—a contact who had been my mysterious protector during my time in containment. I had never seen his face, only received his messages smuggled in through sympathetic guards.

I dialed with shaking fingers, praying he would answer.

"You escaped," a deep, modulated voice answered after the first ring. Not a question, but a statement.

"Yes," I whispered, sinking down against the wall as my strength began to fail. "I need help."

"There's a gray sedan three blocks east," he replied. "The keys are under the front wheel well. Drive to the address I'll text you."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, the question that had burned within me for five years.

A pause. "We have a mutual enemy."

"Damon?"

"Among others," he replied cryptically. "But now I need something from you in return."

I closed my eyes, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me. "What?"

"Approach Lucian Thorne."

My eyes snapped open. "The Alpha King? That's suicide. Why would he even look twice at me?"

"He will," the voice assured me. "Damon's actions have already set events in motion. When the opportunity presents itself, you and your wolf must seize it."

Emily stirred uneasily within me at the suggestion. We were broken, weakened—hardly the type to attract the attention of the most powerful Alpha in Ocean City.

"How can we possibly..." I began.

"Trust me," the voice interrupted. "Your wolf is more special than you know. Remember, Elara, survival sometimes requires unorthodox alliances."

The line went dead. No time to think, I need to hurry and escape first.