Cora's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
The harsh white lights of the emergency ward cast an unforgiving glow across the sterile floor tiles, and the sharp smell of antiseptic made her stomach churn. Every beep from the machines behind the swinging double doors made her flinch. She sat frozen on a narrow bench outside the emergency ward, her spine stiff, lips trembling. Her mother was behind those doors—unconscious, unmoving, fighting for her life. And all Cora could do was wait.
Then she heard it.
"Little bird."
Her head snapped up at the sound of that voice—velvety, self-assured, and unmistakably Damien's.
He strode down the corridor like he owned it, like the whole hospital belonged to him. The black coat he wore billowed behind him, his polished boots tapping against the floor with an ominous rhythm. His expression was unreadable, but the moment he saw her, it softened, just slightly. Only for her.
Cora barely had a second to react before he reached her. He knelt, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pulling her into his arms.
She clutched at his jacket, breathing in the scent of spice, smoke, and the unmistakable scent that was Damien—something dark and magnetic that shouldn't have been comforting, but was.
"My mother—" she choked, her voice raw.
"I know," Damien said.
He didn't let her finish. His lips met hers in a soft but firm kiss, silencing her panic. It wasn't passionate—it was a promise. When he pulled back, his thumb traced the side of her jaw.
"I'll make sure she gets the best treatment," he said with quiet confidence. "She'll be fine."
Cora nodded, trusting him despite the storm raging inside her.
Leonard muttered a moment later, dark-eyed and grim. "I'm going to check the house. See if there's any trace left behind."
Damien gave a curt nod. " Maximilian is already there . Sweep the place thoroughly."
Once Leonard disappeared down the hallway, Damien turned his attention back to Cora. His gaze was sharp now, calculating.
"Someone spiked my drink," he said, voice low and dangerous. "They wanted me out of the way. To get to you."
Her blood turned cold. "On the ferry?"
He nodded. "Was there anyone around you that stood out? Someone who acted…off?"
Cora furrowed her brow, trying to remember. "Yes. Cecily. She was... strange. Too nice. She kept acting too farmiliar ."
Damien's mouth twisted into a smirk, the kind that was both amused and furious. "Of course she did."
"Do you think she's behind this?"
"I think she's involved. But she's not smart enough to orchestrate this alone."
He pulled out his phone and barked an order into it. "Get me Doctor Sams. Velgard City Hospital. Now."
No one questioned Damien Ravenscroft—not when he used that voice.
Moments later, the emergency light above the door flickered off. A doctor stepped out, pulling down his surgical mask. His face was lined with exhaustion.
"She's out of immediate danger," he said. "But her condition is still critical. She suffered extensive internal trauma. We're keeping her sedated. Her chances of waking up soon are… slim."
Cora stood as her mother was wheeled past them. Evelyn looked fragile beneath the oxygen mask, her skin pale as moonlight. Cora's chest tightened.
"Whoever did this…" she whispered. "I'll find them. I swear."
"You won't have to," Damien replied darkly. "I already have."
The doctor guided the gurney down the hall, disappearing into a private ward. Cora moved to follow, but the doctor stopped her.
"She needs rest. Visitors aren't permitted yet."
Damien placed a hand at the small of her back, grounding her.
"I've called in one of the best," he said. "Doctor Sams is a night creature. He'll be here within the hour. And I'm assigning two of my men to guard the room."
Cora glanced at him. "You don't trust the hospital?"
"I don't trust anyone," he said simply, flashing her a smile that was all arrogance and teeth. "Especially not after today."
Cora bit her lip. "Maybe I should book a hotel room nearby. Just for the night—"
Damien chuckled. That infuriating, smug laugh of his.
"Oh, little bird," he murmured, pinching her cheek beneath the mask. "You're coming with me to the palace."
She went still.
"Damien, I don't think that's a good idea."
His smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew more devilish.
"Scared of meeting my mother?" he teased.
"No," she lied.
Lies tasted bitter, but truth would have been worse. She'd seen the vision. The Queen. Teeth sinking into soft, scaled flesh. Her kind, devoured like animals.
"I just think I'd be a distraction," she said carefully.
"You're always a distraction," he said. "That's the point."
"Damien—"
He raised a brow. "Do you really think I'm letting you out of my sight when someone just tried to kill your mother?"
The smugness in his tone should have infuriated her. But there was something protective beneath it. Possessive.
It made her heart flutter—and her stomach twist.
"Your palace isn't exactly the safest place for me either," she said. "Not when your family—"
"My family," he interrupted smoothly, "knows better than to touch what's mine."
Cora blinked. "Yours?"
His eyes gleamed. "Oh, little bird. You were mine the second you stepped onto Oscar island."
She flushed beneath the mask, glad it hid her expression.
Damien offered his hand like a prince in a twisted fairytale. "Come. Let me take you somewhere you can sleep without one eye open."
She hesitated.
"I'll bring you back to see her first thing in the morning. You have my word," he said.
And that—somehow—meant everything.
With one last glance at the hospital ward where her mother lay unconscious, Cora took his hand.
Damien laced their fingers together, possessive and confident.
"I'll find out who did this," he murmured, voice low and lethal. "And when I do, little bird… I won't be merciful."