CHAPTER 72: EMERGENCY RUSH II

Charis

Kael moved back into the room in long strides, grabbing his jacket from the couch. Then reached for my hand, tugging me gently to his side and said urgently, "Come on, Eamon."

The three of us hurried out of the room, and I couldn’t help but notice how Kael’s actions contradicted his earlier claims about not being friends with Rhett. For someone who insisted they weren’t close, he certainly acted like Rhett’s welfare mattered to him immensely.

There was a cab idling in front of our building, waiting for us. As soon as we rushed out, we all piled in.

"What exactly happened?" Kael asked as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

"Sarah called me in a panic. She said Rhett was having a conversation with someone, but I didn’t catch that part because she was talking fast when he suddenly collapsed. His heart rate spiked, his temperature went through the roof, and he lost consciousness. Dr. Maxwell said it was worse than this morning’s episode."

"Why are we rushing to Rhett?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer would complicate my feelings further.

Slater looked at me, like I’d grown another head. "Because he has no one else except us. His father is always travelling, and his stepmother barely shows up for emergencies like this. We’re his emergency contacts. At least Kael and I are, but you get to tag along because you’re his friend, too.

Here I was, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and yet I’d somehow become part of Rhett’s support system.

My story keeps coming up with plot twists.

When we arrived at Rhett’s house, there was a big ambulance in front of his house and in the middle of it, a stretcher was being wheeled towards it. On it was Rhett. He was pale, unconscious and had an oxygen mask on his face. Pushing the stretcher with the paramedics was another tall man.

Kael immediately ran to the stretcher, placing his hand on its edge and stopping it from moving.

"Who are you, and where are you taking him?" He demanded, staring at the tall man

The man turned, and that’s when I saw him clearly for the first time. He was tall, with red hair freckled with grey and striking hazel eyes like Rhett’s. There was no mistaking the resemblance. Even without being told, I knew this was Rhett’s father.

Before I could process it, the doctor from before rushed out of the house holding a bag. As soon as he saw Kael, he sighed in relief.

"Good, you’re here. We don’t have time. Let’s go."

As they loaded Rhett into the ambulance, Kael called out, "Dr. Maxwell, who is this man?"

"Who else?" Dr. Maxwell replied from inside the ambulance, already working to stabilise Rhett. "That’s Rhett’s father, Alpha Terry."

Kael instantly stepped backwards and bowed in respect. "I’m sorry about that, Alpha. I just had to make sure Rhett wasn’t in any kind of danger."

Alpha Terry stared at Kael, then looked past him to Slater and me. "And all of you are?"

"We’re Rhett’s friends," Slater said, pushing past Kael to stand in front of the Alpha. "And his emergency contacts. Without us, the ambulance wouldn’t be allowed to leave the academy."

Without waiting for any reply or permission, Slater turned to us. "Come on, guys. Let’s go."

The three of us piled into the back of the ambulance, and it immediately started moving. I found myself pressed between Slater and Kael in the cramped space, trying to stay out of Dr. Maxwell’s way as he worked over Rhett’s unconscious form.

"What’s the problem?" Kael asked Dr. Maxwell. "I thought you said he was getting better."

I hid behind Slater, hoping the doctor would be too busy to remember my face from our earlier encounter.

Dr. Maxwell’s hands moved efficiently over his equipment as he spoke. "He was fine. Better than fine, actually. His cardiac arrhythmia had completely stabilised, his blood oxygen levels were back to normal range, and the inflammation around his heart had reduced by nearly seventy per cent. I was preparing to remove all the monitoring equipment when he suddenly had this relapse."

"Then why the relapse?"

"We don’t know yet," Maxwell admitted. "He was doing so well, I even cancelled the next set of oral cardiac infusions. But then...this. Fever spiked out of nowhere. Blood vessels constricted. It could be an underlying infection."

Kael nodded grimly. "So what’s the way forward? What needs to be done?"

"I’ve already informed the hospital that we’re bringing him in for emergency surgery," Dr. Maxwell replied, adjusting an IV line. "We’re hoping we can isolate the infection, stop it from spreading, and stabilise him long enough to begin proper therapy again and..."

"And what?" Slater asked.

"I pray to the moon that he doesn’t go into a coma," Dr. Maxwell’s face turned grim. "That would be bad."

"What was he doing before he went into a relapse?" Kael asked suddenly.

"Or why did his father suddenly show up after ignoring his son for almost a year. To think it was just the right time for Rhett to have a relapse suddenly."

Dr. Maxwell paused what he was doing and turned to stare at Slater, who I realised now was angry.

"That is a treasonable allegation, Slater," Dr. Maxwell said quietly. "Alpha Terry loves his son more than anything in the world."

"Wow! News to me," Slater scoffed. "And he shows up whenever he likes. I’m so mad right now."

"Let’s just focus on Rhett for now," Kael said, "And I know you have a lot to say to his father too, but can you chill out first. It’s none of our business what happens in their family..."

"Yeah, and you’re the right person to give such advice when your father has never missed a visiting day or did not fail to send you a present for your birthday..."

"Slater," Kael said firmly, stopping him mid-sentence. "What did I say about not letting your emotions make decisions for you. I know you’re mad, but you should let Rhett decide whether or not he wants to hate his father. It’s not in our position to make that choice for him."

"And you’re so fucking, annoying, Kael. I hate that you can be so logical in situations like this. Fuck!" Slater gritted his teeth in frustration. "Do well and keep Alpha Terry far from me because I would let my emotions make decisions for me, tonight."

As the ambulance raced through the streets, I stared at Rhett’s pale face and felt a complex mixture of guilt and fear.

Despite everything—the teasing, the jokes, the bravado—Rhett was fighting for his life. Again.

His miraculous improvement had coincided exactly with my visit, and now his relapse had happened shortly after I left. I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, my presence was connected to these dramatic changes in his condition.

But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?