LOGINAdriana
"Three weeks."
Nathaniel’s voice broke on the final word, the sheer horror of the math bleeding into the quiet library.
Three weeks. The number echoed in my head, loud and damning. I stared at the five vials of dark red blood sitting in the metal lockbox. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my expression to remain perfectly blank.
In the web novel I had read in my past life, the viral collapse took three months. It was a slow
NathanielMy hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist. The grip was weak, lacking the steady strength I relied on in the operating room, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I had asked her to stay. The desperate plea had torn out of my throat before my pride could stop it.Adriana stood frozen near the heavy door of the East Wing clinic. The dim emergency floor strips cast long, quiet shadows across the sterile white tiles.I waited for the rejection. I expected her to offer a polite excuse about checking the perimeter, or perhaps just return to the rigid metal chair beside the bed to keep watch. I was a grown man, a trauma surgeon, and I was begging for comfort like a terrified child. I felt entirely exposed, stripped of the confident, teasing armor I usually wore to keep the world at arm's length.
AdrianaThe steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the East Wing clinic.I sat in a stiff metal chair beside the narrow medical cot, my elbows resting on my knees, watching the slow rise and fall of Nathaniel’s chest. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the dark, bruised circles under his hazel eyes and the hollow cut of his cheekbones. He looked incredibly fragile.Just a few hours ago, he had walked into the grand foyer of Haven House covered in someone else's blood, delivered the final, damning timeline of the virus, and then simply folded into himself. The adrenaline that had kept him upright for three days finally gave out. He had collapsed right there on the hardwood floor.Rafael had caught him
NathanielI sat perfectly still on the edge of the narrow cot in the East Wing clinic, the stark white lights humming quietly overhead. I was too exhausted to stand, but the adrenaline spiking through my system made it impossible to relax.I coughed. It was a harsh, dry, hacking sound that tore at the back of my throat. It wasn't the first time I had coughed since returning to Haven House, but it was the loudest. The sound echoed off the sterile tile walls, sharp and terrifying.Rafael stopped pacing near the door. He turned slowly, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me. His hand didn't move toward the sidearm holstered at his hip, but the tension in his broad shoulders was absolute. He wasn't looking at me like I was a doctor anymore. He was looking at me like a potential threat."Nathaniel," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a low, measured register from where he stood near the stainless steel counter. "When exactly did the cough start?""I don't have the fever, Gabriel," I replie
Adriana"Three weeks."Nathaniel’s voice broke on the final word, the sheer horror of the math bleeding into the quiet library.Three weeks. The number echoed in my head, loud and damning. I stared at the five vials of dark red blood sitting in the metal lockbox. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my expression to remain perfectly blank.In the web novel I had read in my past life, the viral collapse took three months. It was a slow, creeping dread that worked its way through the lower districts before eventually breaching the gated communities. It gave the wealthy elites plenty of time to pack their designer bags, secure their private compounds, and retreat gracefully while the middle class burned. The original Adriana had spent those three months planning an extravagant wedding, entirely blind to the fact that her fiancé was using her fortune to buy his own survival.But I wasn't her. I didn't play the vict
NathanielMy hands wouldn't stop shaking against the steering wheel of the white medical transport truck. I gripped the leather so tightly my knuckles ached, but the violent tremor traveling up my forearms refused to settle. Blood stained the knees of my blue hospital scrubs, drying into stiff, dark patches that smelled of copper and sterile alcohol.I hit the brakes as the massive steel gates of Haven House loomed in the headlights. Two armed guards stepped out from the shadows, recognized the vehicle, and manually triggered the entrance. I drove through, kicking up a thick cloud of dust and gravel, and slammed the truck into park in the center of the courtyard.I grabbed the insulated lockbox from the passenger seat, kicked the door open, and nearly tripped over my own feet. My legs felt like lead, driven entirely by the adrenaline still flooding my system.I pushed through the heavy wooden front doors of the mansion.The grand foye
AdrianaHis lips were rough, demanding, and completely desperate. I stopped thinking about leverage, balance, or the self-defense techniques he had just spent an hour trying to teach me. I tangled my fingers into his dark, damp hair, pulling him closer, matching the fierce, untamed energy he poured into the kiss. The cold surface of the martial arts mat dug into my spine, a sharp contrast to the burning heat radiating from the man pinning me down.Rafael finally broke the contact, tearing his mouth away to drag in a ragged breath. He didn't release my wrists. He stayed right where he was, his broad chest rising and falling heavily against mine. The lethal, composed security director was gone. His dark eyes were blown wide, filled with a possessive, dangerous fire that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight through my veins."I shouldn't have done that," Rafael rasped, his voice a harsh rumble in the quiet expanse of the gym."Are you apolog







