CHAPTER 276: SHE HATES ME...

The moment the door closed behind me, the sound her sobs still clawing through the walls, I felt something snap inside me.

"Adrien—what the hell happened in there?" Cameron’s voice came from somewhere down the hall, sharp and alarmed. "We heard things breaking—no one wanted to enter, because, you know, nobody wants to be beheaded—but, Jesus Christ—"

He froze mid-sentence.

"Is that blood?"

Gray’s voice cut through next, deeper, worried. "Boss... you’re bleeding. Your eyes—"

"what the fuck—are you crying blood?"

Crying blood? Maybe. It didn’t matter. Everything hurt. My chest. My ribs. My heart.

God, my heart.

Gray’s voice followed somewhere in the distance. "Boss—"

But I could barely hear them. It was like the world had gone hollow. Every sound came through cotton. Every breath scraped like glass against my lungs.

I wanted to tear my chest open. Just reach in and rip the damn thing out before it killed me. It hurt too much.

Why does it hurt this much? Why her words?

I leaned my forehead against the cool, unyielding wall of the hallway, trying to draw some semblance of solidity from it. But even the wall felt as precarious as my own sanity. My breath hitched, ragged and uneven. I tried to force air into my lungs, but it felt like trying to breathe through a collapsed tunnel. Each inhale was a gasp, each exhale a shuddering surrender.

I blinked, trying to focus, but everything was starting to tilt. Their faces blurred, their voices warped.

"I..." My throat burned. "I can’t—"

His voice—Gray’s? Cameron’s?—echoed again, faint, distorted. "He’s bleeding from everywhere. His sutures are opening again! Look at his shirt—he’s—shit—let me get Kassel. Cameron, get him to sit down—"

Their hands reached for me, but I jerked away.

"Get your hands off me," I snapped—or maybe screamed. My throat was burning, my body is on fire, my voice raw. I didn’t want them touching me. I didn’t want anyone touching me.

"Boss, you need to stop," Gray’s voice was urgent, closer now. I could feel his hand on my arm, surprisingly gentle, considering the raw pain that pulsed through me.

"Leave me alone," I grunted, my voice a ragged rasp. I batted his hand away, a futile gesture that only seemed to confirm their fears.

Cameron was beside me, his face a mask of concern. "Adri , man, you’re scaring me. Let us help you."

Let them help me? How could they help the gaping void that had opened in my chest?

"I don’t need help," I lied, the words tasting like ash. My gaze drifted down to my abdomen, where the phantom ache from Isabella’s thrown figurine still lingered. It wasn’t the physical pain that was overwhelming, but the utter futility of it all.

A tremor ran through my body, more violent than any I had experienced in combat. It wasn’t a fear of death, but a fear of this profound, unbearable sorrow.

"We can’t just leave you like this," Gray insisted, firmer this time. "Look at yourself. You’re still bleeding."

My eyes were stinging, blurring the edges of the sterile hallway. Was it blood? Or was it the tears I refused to shed, the dam of my composure finally cracking under the unbearable pressure? I didn’t care.

"Just... give me a minute," I whispered, as I kept walking. Step after step, down the endless hallway. "I just need... to think."

Think? How could I think when her words echoed in my mind like a death knell? "I want a divorce. I don’t want to do this again." Each syllable was a fresh wound, reopening old scars, twisting the knife deeper.

She hates me...

The men who had been stationed in the hallway—the guards who never flinched, who never moved unless ordered—had all turned away, lining the walls, heads bowed. They didn’t dare look at me. Maybe they saw what I didn’t want to feel: a man unraveling.

I kept walking. My feet dragged, my vision pulsing in and out of focus. The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, bright and white and suffocating.

"I need air..." My voice cracked. "I’m—suffocating."

Every breath was a struggle. My lungs burned, my ribs ached, and my head buzzed like static.

"Stop, cous!" Cameron said, but his words came from somewhere far away—like through water. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I just needed... out. Fresh air. "You’re bleeding through your shirt—just stop, damn it!"

But I couldn’t. I needed to move

. If I stopped, I’d fall apart right there.

My breath hitched. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the harsh fluorescent light, but the images of her tear-streaked face were burned onto the inside of my eyelids.

The agony was so immense, so complete, that my body finally rebelled.

My vision spasmed. My jaw locked. I felt an uncontrollable shudder run through my entire frame, starting in my core and rattling my teeth.

Then, I threw up.

It wasn’t just bile. It was a vicious, violent expulsion of blood and stomach acid onto the clean white floor. The sudden, debilitating nausea finally broke the dam of my control.

Cameron’s hand clamped onto my arm again. "Adrien—"

I didn’t hear the rest.

My legs gave out. The ground tilted violently and the corridor spun in dizzy circles.

Bam—

I would’ve hit the floor, but something stopped the fall.

A body.

Cameron’s.

We went down together, his crutch clattering away.

"I’ve got you," he muttered through clenched teeth.

I heard someone yell—Kassel’s voice this time, panicked—

"Gurney! NOW! His blood pressure is tanking!"

I wanted to curse him. Stupid fool, your leg’s still injured. Why are you holding me up? But my mouth wouldn’t move. The world was dimming, narrowing, collapsing in on itself.

Their voices became a blur of sound. Kassel’s orders, Gray’s swearing, the hurried steps of nurses and men in boots. No, they will wake my wife up with this much noise even if she is sedated. I wanted to stand up and reprimand everyone but then—nothing.

Just darkness swallowing everything whole.