CHAPTER TWO.

ZEVIAR

I shouldn’t be thinking about her.

That was the first thing I told myself as I drove through the city. I was driving too fast and I knew it. Darius would’ve commented on it if he were in the car, would’ve told me to slow down, and reminded me that no amount of speed would change what had already happened. But he wasn’t here, and I didn’t slow down.

The city lights blurred past me as my grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She was human!

The thought kept circling back. It was sharp and irritating, like a loose wire I couldn’t tape down. I felt her body react when I touched her. I felt something was wrong inside me. That wasn’t supposed to happen with humans. Ever!

Zayn, my wolf, stirred at the back of my mind.

“You felt it.”

“All I felt was pain,” I said under my breath. “On her. That’s all.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m being rational.”

“You’re being afraid.”

I scoffed quietly and changed lanes. “Watch it.”

The memory hit me again without permission. Her body was burning under my hands. The way she cried. The way she collapsed like something inside her had been unlocked.

That wasn't an attraction and it wasn't a coincidence either. And I hated that I didn’t have an explanation yet.

My phone buzzed. I answered without looking.

“What’s the report? ” I asked.

Darius didn’t bother with pleasantries. He never did when things were serious. “The fire started at the back of the stage. Electrical fault is the official story. But unofficially? It doesn’t sit right.”

“It never does,” I said.

“The Security footage went offline for four minutes,” he continued. “Just right before the fire spread. The sprinklers took time before coming on and the emergency exits were jammed.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“No,” Darius agreed. “And since it was your fundraiser, everyone’s being extra careful about what they say.”

“My name doesn’t make negligence disappear,” I said flatly.

“True,” he replied. “But it does make people nervous.”

I pulled into traffic, my jaw tightening. “And how many casualties?”

“Four were confirmed dead, twelve critical patients and more are still being admitted.”

I said nothing.

“And her?” Darius asked carefully.

I knew who he meant.

“She was breathing when they took her,” I said.

“Barely.”

Silence stretched between us for a second.

“Do you want me at the hospital?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Meet me there.”

“On my way.”

The call ended, and I drove faster.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and killed the engine. For a moment, I stayed there, staring through the windshield. I had organized that fundraiser. I went through every detail, cross checked every guest list and every safety check that had been handed to me. I approved them all. This wasn’t some distant tragedy on the news. This was mine!

The hospital felt like organized chaos. Doctors and nurses rushed around while families mourned. The air smelled of antiseptic, fear, and blood.

I followed the signs toward emergency care, each step was a struggle. People stopped to stare and whisper. I hated hospitals.

A nurse at the front desk looked up, her eyes widening slightly. “Mr Knight?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said quickly.

“This way.”

Of course they had. Darius joined me halfway down the hall. He already discarded his suit jacket and had on a tight expression.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

I glanced at him. “You sound observant.”

He huffed. “You dragged a woman out of a burning building and passed out with her in your arms. Forgive me for noticing.”

“She collapsed,” I corrected. “ And I caught her.”

“And blacked out.”

“That part is irrelevant.”

Darius raised a brow but didn’t push.

The nurse led us to a room at the end of the hall. The automatic doors slid open, and there it was again. The warm and soft scent of vanilla.

It wrapped around me instantly, tightening in my chest, pulling at something deep and distant within me.

“Mate.”

“No,” I said under my breath.

Darius looked at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Zayn growled low. “You know it’s her.”

“She’s human,” I replied internally, firm. “This is not happening.”

“The bond doesn’t care.”

“Well, I do.”

“That’s her,” the nurse said. Her voice snapped me back to the present. “Lyra.”

The name landed heavier than it should have.

She lay still on the bed.

Lyra.

I took a step closer to her. She looked smaller than she had in the fire. She was bandaged in most parts of her body and she looked pale. Too pale. She was connected to machines that hummed softly, like they were afraid to disturb her.

A doctor entered behind me, adjusting his glasses.

“Mr. Knight,” he said. “I’m Dr. Hale. And I've been overseeing her case.”

“How bad is it,” I asked.

He hesitated. “She suffered smoke inhalation, internal trauma from falling debris, and severe shock. We stabilized her, but her condition is… unstable.”

“Define unstable.” I said while observing her pale face on the bed. She looked lifeless.

“Her vitals fluctuate without a clear cause. Her heart rate spikes, then drops. And the sedatives aren’t responding the way we’d expect.”

“Can she survive surgery?”

“We don’t believe surgery would help at this stage.”

I looked at Lyra again. Her chest rose shallowly.

“How long does she have?” I asked.

Dr. Hale swallowed. “We don’t know. Minutes. Hours. We’re doing everything we can.”

Zayn stirred again, uneasy.

“You’re letting them fail her.” I ignored him. Focusing my attention solely on the doctor.

The doctor continued, unaware. “Even if she survives, recovery will be long and complicated.”

I looked at Lyra again.

She didn’t look strong enough to overcome the complicated part.

“Can I stay?” I asked.

He nodded. “For now.”

Darius shifted uncomfortably behind me. “You don’t usually do this.”

“I organized the fundraiser,” I replied. “This happened under my watch.”

“That’s not why you’re here.” I ignored him.

All of a sudden the monitor stuttered.

Once.

Twice.

Then it flattened.

“Cardiac arrest,” someone shouted.

The room exploded into movement. Hands were suddenly everywhere. Nurses rushed in from both sides. Someone pushed a tray closer. The doctor stepped forward, already pulling on gloves, his voice was fast and controlled as he called out instructions.

I didn’t move. Lyra lay there, completely still. No rise in her chest. No flutter. Nothing.

For a second, my mind refused to accept it. I had seen death before. I’d caused it. I’d ordered it. I’d lived with it. But this felt different.

“Clear,” the doctor said.

Her body jerked hard when the shock hit her. But, nothing changed.

“Again,” he ordered.

Clear.

Her body arched again, then fell back against the bed like it had no strength left to fight. Still nothing.

My chest tightened. Not out of fear, but something heavier. The realization that for once, there was nothing I could do.

Zayn slammed against my mind, furious now.

“She’s slipping. Do something.”

“They’re doing it,” I snapped back, but the words felt hollow even to me.

Another nurse checked her pulse and shook her head slightly. The doctor’s jaw tightened. His movements were still calm, but I could see it now. Hesitation and doubt.

He looked at me like I was just another man standing helpless at the edge of the bed.

“Mr. Knight,” he started carefully, “if her heart doesn’t respond…”

I didn’t hear the rest. All I could see was her face. The warmth I’d felt earlier was gone and her scent was slowly slipping away.

No.

I stepped closer to the bed without realizing I’d moved.

“This isn’t acceptable,” I said quietly.

The doctor blinked. “Sir-”

“She does not die here.”

Something inside my chest cracked.

Not loudly. Not all at once. Just enough for anger to seep through. At them.

“You’re losing her,” Zayn growled. “You’re letting them lose her.”

“They’re human,” I shot back. “This is all they can do.”

“And you?”

The question hit harder than it should have.

I looked around the room. At the people. At the machines. At the careful distance they all kept now, like they were already preparing to give up.

That was when I felt it. The shift. It didn't come from her. But from me.

The doctor opened his mouth again, probably to say something final. But before he could, I cut him off.

“Clear the room.” Every head turned toward me.

“Mr. Knight,” the doctor said slowly, “we can’t-”

“Now.”

The nurses hesitated. While the doctor held my gaze for a long second, clearly weighing his options. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back.

“Everyone out,” he said.

One by one, they moved. The door slid shut behind them.

Now it was just me and her alone.