Chapter 5 : The Cold Truth

THE GUEST BEDROOM

The heavy door clicked shut. Party noise was gone.

Kirill put Kyrian on the huge bed. Gently. His hands shook a little as he brushed hair off Kyrian's sweaty forehead. The boy looked dead. Pale. Ghostly. Lips dry.

Kirill turned around. Lorenzo Moretti was standing there. Rolling up his sleeves. Tattoos showing on his arms.

"Give me space," Lorenzo ordered. Voice cold. No emotion. Not asking.

Kirill hesitated. Just for a second. Then stepped back. Had no choice.

Lorenzo moved to the bed.

Looked at Kyrian close. Eyes narrowed.

The boy looked breakable. Too delicate. Like a doll that cracked.

A bodyguard walked in quiet. Put a black medical bag on the table. Left.

Lorenzo snapped on black gloves. Put two fingers on Kyrian's neck.

Ice cold.

Pulse was there. But weak. Thready.

Picked up a thermometer. Scanned the forehead.

93°F. Hypothermia starting.

"Body is shutting down," Lorenzo mumbled. Checked the heart with a stethoscope. Slow. Too slow.

Lorenzo stood up straight. Eyes snapped to Kirill. Like a whip.

"Did he take suppressants or meds?" Lorenzo asked sharp.

Kirill stiffened. Looked at his unconscious son. Then back at the Enigma. Tried to keep his face blank.

"He had... for a fever."

Lorenzo didn't blink. Stepped closer. His aura got big. Suffocating the room.

"For fever?" Lorenzo scoffed. Voice dropped low.

"Don't lie, Mr. Volkov. I am a surgeon first. Don't play games."

He pointed at Kyrian.

"Symptoms show overdose. High dose Beta-Blockers. Or Neural Suppressants. Fever meds don't do this. He is in shock."

Kirill stared. Throat dry.

Cornered. If he lied, Lorenzo might treat him wrong. Kyrian could die.

"If you don't tell the truth, how can I treat him?"

Lorenzo’s voice was cold. Logical. "Heart rate dropping. Tell me now. Or I let him die."

Kirill clenched his fists. Deep breath.

"He used meds to avoid Alpha scents."

Lorenzo’s eyes flickered. Avoiding scents?

"What kind?" Lorenzo demanded. Opened a bottle from his bag.

"Heavy-dose sensory blocker," Kirill admitted. Voice low. "He is sensitive. Took three times the normal dose to survive the party."

Lorenzo paused. Looked back at Kyrian.

Three times the dose? Just to avoid scents?

Or hiding something else?

"Lucky his heart didn't stop," Lorenzo mumbled.

Filled a syringe. Clear liquid. "Antidote. Will neutralize the blockers. Warm him up."

Lorenzo leaned over.

Grabbed Kyrian’s arm. Hand was huge. Covered Kyrian’s thin arm easy. Skin-to-skin contact (even through gloves) sent a weird spark through Lorenzo.

Injected the medicine. Precise.

"Now," Lorenzo threw the syringe away. "We wait."

Pulled a chair. Sat right next to the bed. Crossed his legs.

He wasn't leaving.

THE WAITING GAME

Silence stretched. Tight. Like a rubber band ready to snap.

Lorenzo sat silent. Watching the unconscious boy. Predatory calm. Didn't look like a doctor. Looked like a King claiming territory.

Kirill sat on the couch opposite. Rigid. Refused to leave his son alone with this man.

Boom. Door flew open.

Ivan Volkov walked in. Eyes wild. Panic. He smelled the thick pheromones immediately. Saw his brother passed out. Lorenzo sitting there like he owned the place.

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. Dangerous slits. Walked straight to his dad. Ignored the Enigma.

"Dad," Ivan whispered. Voice shaking with rage. "What happened? What is he doing here?"

Kirill stood up. Pulled Ivan to the corner. Whispered fast. Explained everything. Fainting. Overdose. Lorenzo helping.

"Go home, Dad," Ivan said firm. Glanced at Kyrian. "Mom is worried. She needs you. I'm here."

Kirill hesitated. Looked at Kyrian. Then Ivan.

"Take care of him," Kirill gripped Ivan’s shoulder.

Leaned closer. Whisper barely audible. "Be careful."

Glanced one last time at Lorenzo. Who was scrolling on his phone. Unbothered.

"I will," Ivan promised.

Kirill nodded. Left the room. Door clicked shut.

THE CONFRONTATION

Room got colder.

Ivan sat on the couch. Defensive. Watched Lorenzo. Waiting for him to leave. Lorenzo didn't move. Put his phone away. Dark, amused eyes.

"I never knew," Lorenzo started. Voice smooth.

Sharp taunt. "That someone like your brother... a 'model'... could use things like this."

Pointed at the empty medical bottle.

Ivan glared. Jaw clenched. "What do you mean, Mr. Moretti?"

Lorenzo chuckled. Dark. Low. Vibrated in the quiet room.

"You know what I mean, Mr. Volkov. High-grade blockers? For fever? Doesn't add up."

Ivan stood up. Ready to snap. Door opened again.

"Easy, guys," calm voice.

Dante walked in. Tablet in hand. Unfazed by the tension. "Going to start a war here? Save the testosterone for the meeting."

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. Didn't reply. Attention shifted.

Movement on the bed.

THE AWAKENING

Kyrian felt like a truck hit him.

Head pounding. Sharp pain. But the smell was worse.

Everywhere. Thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

Smelled like burnt wood, dark rain, raw power.

Ugh... what is this smell?

Tried to move his finger. Body felt heavy. Lead. Even twitching hurt.

"Ugh..." Low groan.

Slowly opened his eyes. Blurry. Swimming focus.

Heard voices. Deep. Annoying.

Turned his head slightly. Through half-open eyes, saw a blurry shape sitting right there. Man in a sharp black suit.

Kyrian blinked. Trying to clear his vision. Man was staring right at him.

This bastard... Kyrian thought. Mind hazy. Sass still there.

Is he the reason?

This ugly, suffocating scent is coming from him.

Lorenzo leaned closer. Dark eyes locked on Kyrian’s confused ones.

Kyrian glared weak.

Who is this monster? Why staring at me like dinner?

"Look who decided to join the living," Lorenzo said soft. Voice deep. Vibrated through Kyrian's ears.

Kyrian tried to speak. Tell him to get lost. Throat dry. Whisper came out.

"You... you stink."

Room went dead silent.

Ivan’s eyes wide.

Dante choked on spit.

And Lorenzo... Lorenzo just smirked.