Claimed by the Wrong Alphas

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.