Free Web NovelChapter 313: Chapter 313 Finally Awake
Hudson’s POV
I clawed my way back to consciousness like I was fighting through tar. Every nerve ending screamed, my body felt like lead, and for several confused moments, I couldn’t tell if I was actually awake or trapped in another fever dream. ƒrēewebnovel.com
The hospital room came into blurry focus. Sterile walls. Beeping machines.
And then—her.
Christina, curled up in the chair beside my bed, her golden hair falling across her face as she dozed. One hand still stretched out, fingers barely touching mine on the mattress.
I thought I was hallucinating again. My mind had played this cruel trick before during brief moments of lucidity, showing me her face only to have it dissolve when I reached for her.
"Christina?" My voice came out as a rasp, barely audible.
Her head jerked up, eyes flying wide. Pure relief washed over her face, so intense it made my chest ache.
"Hudson!" She lunged forward, grabbing my hand between both of hers like I might disappear if she let go. "You’re awake. Thank the Goddess, you’re actually awake."
I tried shifting my position, but moving my right arm sent white-hot pain shooting through my shoulder. I clenched my teeth to keep from groaning. My fingers barely responded, feeling weighted and distant.
Christina noticed. Her grip tightened on my hand, but she didn’t comment.
"How long?" I managed.
"Almost a week. Your fever’s been spiking on and off. The doctors said your body needed time to fight the infection."
Her voice was steady, but exhaustion had worn it thin around the edges. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and guilt slammed into me. She shouldn’t be here wasting her time watching me sleep.
I closed my eyes briefly, then forced them open. "The company."
Christina leaned closer, offering a small smile. "LGH is safe. The moratorium’s been withdrawn. The investors have calmed down. You don’t need to worry about any of that right now."
Safe. Withdrawn. Comforting words, but I knew better than most that victories like this came with steep prices. If she was the one telling me this news, it meant she’d been the one fighting my battles.
I studied her face more carefully. She looked worn out but there was a determined fire in her eyes that I recognized immediately. She’d been fighting—hard—while I was lying here useless.
"What did you give up?" My voice came out harsher than intended.
She frowned. "Why would you think I—"
"Because I know you," I cut her off. "You’d throw yourself into a wildfire if you thought it would help someone you care about. What did you sacrifice this time? What risks did you take?"
She shook her head firmly. "Nothing that matters. What matters is you’re still here. That’s all I care about."
Her words should have reassured me, but they only twisted the knife deeper. I turned away, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the hollow dread building in my stomach.
The doctors’ voices echoed in my half-conscious memory. Nerve damage. Limited recovery. Possible permanent impairment.
They hadn’t said it outright, but I understood what it meant. My right hand might never function normally again
What kind of Alpha couldn’t even hold a pen without shaking? What kind of man couldn’t protect what was his?
I laughed. "I might never use this hand properly again. Do you understand what that means?"
"I don’t care," Christina blurted out.
Her response was immediate, fierce, raw with emotion.
I turned sharply to look at her. She seemed surprised by her own outburst, cheeks flushed, but her gaze never wavered.
My chest tightened painfully. For just a moment, I wanted to believe her, to let her words chase away the doubts clawing at me. But then the cold, insidious thought crept in.
She was here because she felt responsible. Because she thought she owed me. Because she didn’t know better than to trap herself with a broken Alpha and call it love.
I couldn’t let her chain herself to me out of pity or misplaced guilt.
So I said nothing, retreating into silence.
Christina searched my face, waiting. When I didn’t speak, her shoulders dropped slightly. She smoothed the blanket over me, her fingers lingering on my arm.
The door opened as Geoffrey entered with Dr. Whitman. They checked charts, murmured observations, pressed a stethoscope to my chest. They spoke more to Christina than to me, as if I wasn’t fully present, before leaving just as efficiently as they’d arrived.
The room fell quiet again. Christina stood beside me, eyes filled with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
"I need to rest," I said flatly, keeping my voice even and distant.
Her lips parted, hurt flashing across her face before she masked it. She nodded slowly. "Of course."
She gathered her things, smoothing down her skirt. At the door, she paused, looking back as if hoping I’d say something to make her stay.
I didn’t.
When the door clicked shut behind her, the silence crushed in from all sides.
