Chapter 98
Fleur’s heart hammered against her ribs as she sprinted through the sterile hospital corridors, her flat shoes squeaking loudly against the polished linoleum. Lucas’s call had been brief and jarring: Raphael had been found, badly broken, and was currently fighting for stability in the private ward. Her mind had barely processed the shock before her instincts took over, driving her straight to the hospital.
As she rounded the final corner toward the intensive care wing, the air changed. Underneath the sharp sting of bleach and rubbing alcohol, a faint, heart-stopping trace of cedarwood and crisp winter air brushed against her senses—Christian’s distinct scent.
Fleur froze, her gaze darting to the end of the hall. A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette was just slipping into the stairwell, moving with a fluid, silent grace that seemed almost supernatural.
Her chest tightened. It was him. It had to be. But before she could call out, the heavy door clicked shut, and the presence vanished. Shaking her head to clear the sudden fog, Fleur forced herself to move. She was letting her anxious mind play tricks on her. Christian had made it entirely clear he wanted nothing to do with them anymore; he wouldn’t be here.
Pushing open the door to Raphael’s private room, her breath caught in her throat. The sight of him stole the air right out of her lungs.
Raphael looked agonizingly fragile on the stark white bed, his usually perfect, sun-kissed skin painted in a brutal mosaic of deep purple bruises and jagged cuts. Transparent lines and wires webbed across his chest, tethering him to the rhythmic, sterile beeping of the vitals monitors.
A wave of intense guilt and panic washed over her as she rushed to the bedside. "Oh my God, Raphael," she whispered, her voice cracking as she gently reached for his uninjured hand.
Raphael’s eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus before a weak, lopsided smile broke through his swollen features. "Fleur..." he breathed, his voice raw. "Hey."
"What did they do to you?" she murmured, tears hot and thick in her eyes as she took in the damage.
"Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing," Raphael croaked, trying to inject a bit of his usual charm into his tone. "I’ve sustained worse bruises doing my own stunts on set. The makeup department usually has to work harder than this."
But Fleur couldn’t find it in herself to smile. The cold dread in her stomach only twisted tighter. She looked down at his bandaged wrists, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Was it... was it Christian?"
For a fraction of a second, a dark, selfish thought crossed Raphael’s mind. He loved Fleur. He had protected her for years. If he simply nodded, if he let her believe the ruthless Alpha had done this out of primitive jealousy, she would run from Christian forever. The path to her heart would be entirely clear.
But as he looked at her anxious face, his conscience flared. He remembered the raw, agonizing look in Christian’s eyes back in the warehouse—the way the terrifying Alpha had humbled himself to save his rival, all to spare his mate a single drop of sorrow. A beast capable of that kind of sacrifice didn’t deserve to be framed.
"No, Fleur," Raphael said softly, his voice firm with truth. "Christian didn’t touch me."
Fleur let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "He... he wasn’t the one who had you taken?"
"No. He had absolutely nothing to do with it," Raphael declared.
He let out a weak, dry chuckle, wincing as the movement pulled at his cracked ribs. He never in a million years thought he would stand as Christian Wayne’s defender. But the Alpha’s actions had bridged a gap Raphael didn’t think could be crossed.
Christian was possessive, terrifying, and carried a darkness that could swallow the sun—but his devotion to Fleur was absolute. He had put aside his pride, his hatred, and his own safety to rescue the man his mate cared about. Fleur deserved that kind of fierce, world-bending love. And Raphael knew, with a bittersweet pang in his chest, that he had to step aside.
"Honestly, Fleur, I didn’t understand why he showed up at that warehouse," Raphael continued, his eyes locked onto hers. "But now I get it. He didn’t track me down for my sake. He did it because of you."
Fleur averted her gaze, a heavy lump of shame forming in her throat. The memory of the vicious accusations she had hurled at Christian’s face earlier that day burned like silver. She had branded him a heartless kidnapper, a monster, without a single shred of proof.
"He brought me here and made sure the best doctors in the city were waiting," Raphael said, keeping his promise. "He’s the one for you, Fleur. I’ve spent a long time trying to convince myself otherwise, but a man who would do this just to keep you from weeping... you can’t let a male like that go."
A deep, warm blush stained Fleur’s cheeks, her heart fluttering in a confusing, beautiful rhythm. But the romantic fog was quickly pierced by a cold realization.
"If Christian didn’t do this..." Fleur’s brow furrowed, her eyes searching Raphael’s face. "Then who did? Who wanted to hurt you this badly?"
Raphael’s expression turned solemn, the light leaving his eyes. "Do you remember the real estate mogul from the south? Vincent Hupper?"
"Hupper?" Fleur gasped, her mind racing. "But why? I’ve barely had any dealings with him."
"Exactly," Raphael explained, his voice tight. "You refused to design his flagship estate, choosing to sign with his rival, Julien Lefevre, instead. Julien’s investment return was enormous while Vincent suffered a huge loss. I guess that was his way of getting back at you."
Fleur stared at him, completely dumbfounded. She had lived in total ignorance of the corporate warfare happening just beneath the surface.
"I found out he was plotting to target you or the pups," Raphael continued softly. "So I intervened. I used my family’s connections and regional influence to systematically strip Hupper of his contracts as a warning to stay away from you. But it made him desperate.
After our argument last week, I... I wasn’t focused. My guard was entirely down. His men caught me off guard outside the hotel. They wanted to torture me to send a message to you, and then finish the job. If Christian hadn’t breached that compound when he did, I wouldn’t be breathing right now."