15: No Matter The Cost

The antiseptic sting of the hospital hallway filled Chris's nose as he paced outside the emergency room at the University Hospital of the West Indies. His shirt was still speckled with Tasha's blood, and his fists clenched every few minutes just to stop them from shaking.

Debby was stable. That much the doctor had confirmed. She only had a mild concussion, a bruised rib, and a nasty bump on her forehead from where Rupert had smashed her into the wall, but he was just thankful to the Moon Goddess that she was alive.

She was talking like her old self again. Swearing, even. That gave Chris a flicker of relief in an otherwise hellish day.

But Tasha...

Tasha hadn't opened her eyes.

He'd stood by the stretcher as they wheeled her in, her face swollen and bloodied. There was so much blood he thought she was gone until the faintest, rasping breath slipped from her.

That was hours ago.

Now, Chris sat in a hard plastic chair outside the intensive care wing. He had his elbows on his knees. Every time he blinked, he saw Rupert's face, twisted in rage, his fists flying and the sound of Tasha's voice breaking as she begged him to stop.

Two uniformed police officers approached quietly. One short and stocky, the other tall with a lean build and tired eyes.

"Christopher Grimes?" the taller one asked.

Chris rose. "Yes, sir."

"We got your report. When we arrived at the apartment, the suspect had already fled. We've issued a warrant. He's now on the radar for assault, attempted murder, and his name has been on the police radar for months now. We just didn't have enough evidence to pin him to any crimes."

Chris swallowed. "So he's a part of a gang?"

The officer nodded grimly. "His street name is The Holy Ghost."

Chris blinked. "What?"

"Yeah," the shorter officer chimed in. "He's not just some random preacher's kid. Rupert Myrie is the right-hand man of Hector 'Rude Boy' Mendez, one of the biggest cartel players in the Caribbean. He's been under investigation for years."

Chris cursed under his breath. "So this... all of this was bigger than we thought."

"Way bigger. We suspect the engagement to Miss Mackenzie wasn't just romantic, it was strategic. He wanted to come across as a family man. He already had that son-of-a-pastor thing going for him."

"What happens now?" Chris asked.

"Once she wakes up, we'll need full statements from both women. But for now, you and the family can come down to the station when you're ready. We'll be keeping close watch on this case. If Rupert resurfaces, we need to be ready."

Chris nodded. "Thank you, officers."

"One more thing," the short officer sighed. "What happened at the wedding earlier caused his father, Pastor Myrie to have a heart attack."

"Is he alright?"

"No. Sadly, he passed away a few hours after he was taken to the hospital."

Shit!

"Ok. Thanks again, officers."

The men tipped their hats and left. Chris remained still, heart heavy. So Rupert wasn't just violent. He was a damn cartel enforcer with a grudge and now a dead father.

As if summoned by the thought, a nurse stepped out of ICU and waved to him.

"The family is in the consultation room. The doctor will speak to them shortly."

Chris thanked her, then pulled out his phone.

He needed to call Joseph.

******

Alpha Joseph stood in his private study, the scent of cigar smoke swirling in the air. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, ice clinking as he swirled it slowly. His other hand rested on a photo of Tasha on her graduation day.

She was radiant in it. Bright eyes. That infectious smile. A future blooming behind her gaze.

He had stared at that photo for the past ten minutes, admiring how beautiful she was.

He took a slow sip, the burn of the liquor grounding him. The earlier message from Chris had confirmed the wedding was off. A sense of accomplishment settled over him, but it was tinged with something deeper, more primal.

His thoughts drifted to the previous night, recalling the brief encounter with Tasha. She had appeared in a skimpy robe, her presence igniting a fire he believed had long been extinguished. Five years had passed since he'd last seen her, and he'd thought his obsession had faded. But now, it roared back to life, more intense than ever.

His phone buzzed, and he saw that it was Chris.

"Did he cry?" Joseph chuckled, anticipating tales of Rupert's humiliation.

The silence on the other need lasted too long.

"Chris?"

"Boss, it's Tasha," Chris's voice was tense.

Joseph's amusement vanished. "What happened?"

Chris's voice was tight with emotion as he relayed everything: Debby getting hurt, Tasha being beaten into unconsciousness, the hospital, the coma. Pastor Myrie's sudden heart attack. Rupert vanishing into thin air.

"He's gone?" Joseph growled.

"Gone," Chris confirmed. "By the time the cops got there, he'd vanished."

"I'll fly back tonight," Joseph said flatly. "When I land, Rupert is dead."

"Boss, calm down. Listen... I gave him a good beating before I left the scene. I don't think he'll recover fast. But there's more."

"What?" Joseph asked, pacing now.

"When I was leaving, I saw a tattoo on his neck. A scorpion."

Joseph froze. "The Scorpion gang?"

"Yeah. It's confirmed. Rupert isn't just some angry man. He's connected to the Scorpions."

Joseph slammed his glass down on the desk, causing the whiskey to splatter.

"This isn't just about revenge now. If he's with the Scorpions and his father died because of what Tasha said in that church, then...,"

"He'll retaliate," Chris finished. "He won't stop. Not until she's dead. Or someone in her family pays."

Joseph inhaled slowly, forcing himself to think. He had to protect her. It was more than duty now. More than loyalty to her father.

"She needs to leave Jamaica," Joseph said. "As soon as she wakes up, we move her. She's not safe there."

Chris hesitated on the line.

"Boss... there's something else I need to say."

Joseph closed his eyes. "Go on."

"I've been close to the girls for a while now. First as a guard, then a friend. But lately... it's more. I didn't want to overstep, but..."

"I know," Joseph interrupted, voice softer now. "I knew a long time ago."

"You did?"

"I'm an Alpha, Chris. I can feel when one of my wolves finds their mate."

Silence.

"It's the cousin, isn't it?" Joseph asked.

Chris's voice dropped. "Yes. Debby."

A small smile curved Joseph's mouth. "Then she comes too. When we relocate Tasha, Debby goes with her."

Chris sounded relieved. "Thank you, Alpha."

Joseph nodded slowly. "But Chris, listen to me. Baby steps. You can tell her about the mafia. But not the part about being wolves. Not yet. Don't drop everything on her at once."

"I understand."

"She just survived a damn murder attempt. She doesn't need to know she's in love with a werewolf on top of it."

"I don't think she loves me. We're just friends," Chris added.

They shared a moment of silence before Joseph's voice dropped again.

"Keep her safe, Chris. Keep both of them safe. When I arrive, we'll make a new plan. But for now, I need you to be my eyes and ears."

"I will. I promise."

Joseph sat down at his desk, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The lines between personal and professional had blurred, and now, he had to navigate the treacherous waters of gang politics and his own resurging obsession.

He took another sip of his liquor. "Prepare for anything, Chris. If the Scorpions are involved, we need to be ready."

"Understood, boss. I'll keep you updated."

As the call ended, Joseph stared at Tasha's photograph once more. He had to protect her, no matter the cost.