Chapter 23: Healing Wounds
Chapter 23: Healing Wounds
(Hector’s POV)
I paused as I began to tend to Samantha’s hand. The injury looked worse than when I’d first noticed it, with angry red skin suggesting infection had begun to set in.
“This needs proper cleaning,” I told her firmly, reaching for the antiseptic in my first aid kit.
Samantha’s jaw tightened visibly. “It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch that could become infected if not treated properly,” I corrected, my tone gentler than my words. I dampened a cotton pad with antiseptic and held her wrist steady. “This will sting.”
As I pressed the antiseptic against her wound, Samantha bit her lip hard enough to leave marks. Her eyes inadvertently met mine, and I saw raw vulnerability there–something she rarely displayed.
“You can cry out if it hurts,” I said, keeping my tone deliberately casual. “No one will hear you here.” Something flickered across her face–a flash of wariness–and she quickly averted her gaze.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice cracked slightly.
I continued cleaning methodically, noting how she flinched with each touch. For someone who had been Ethan’s pampered Luna, she seemed determined to show no weakness now.
“The cut is deeper than it appears,” I observed, gently turning her hand to examine it better. The wound was jagged, suggesting a violent impact. “What exactly did Margaret throw at you?”
Samantha’s laugh was brittle, almost jarring in the quiet room. “She didn’t throw anything. I was the one throwing crystal. She just happened to have sharper words.”
I carefully applied a fresh cotton swab to the wound. “Words can cut deeper than glass sometimes.” “Especially when they’re true,” she whispered, só quietly I almost missed it.
Her admission hung in the air between us. I wrapped a clean bandage around her injured hand, securing it with medical tape. Her skin felt cool beneath my fingers, and I found myself lingering longer than necessary. “Thank you,” Samantha said abruptly, yanking her hand away and shifting to the far end of the sofa. The distance she created was deliberate and unmistakable.
“So this lawyer,” she continued, her voice suddenly businesslike. “Do you really think they can help with my divorce? Even with Ethan’s influence?”
I nodded, respecting her need for space. “I’ll contact someone immediately. A specialist in werewolf mating laws who practices in Hong Harbor.”
“And they won’t be intimidated by Ethan?” Her eyes narrowed skeptically.
“No,” I assured her with complete confidence. “They won’t.”
“Thank you, Hector. I don’t know how I can repay-”
I held up my hand, cutting off her gratitude. “Don’t thank me until the matter is resolved. Let me make that
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Chapter 23 Healing Woun…
call now.”
I stood and left the room, giving her a moment alone. From the doorway, I glanced back to see Samantha sitting rigidly on the sofa, fighting visibly against fatigue. Her determination not to fall asleep again as she had done earlier was written in every tense line of her body.
In my study, I made a brief call to Lawyer Shao, an old associate who owed me several favors. She agreed to take the case immediately, despite–or perhaps because of–Ethan Blackwood’s involvement.
When I returned to the living room, Samantha looked up expectantly, her eyes wide with hope and fear.
“It’s arranged,” I told her, allowing myself a small smile of satisfaction. “The lawyer has agreed to take your
case.”
Surprise flickered across her face. “Just like that? So quickly?”
“Just like that,” I confirmed, deliberately choosing to sit across from her rather than beside her on the sofa. “Lawyer Shao is very efficient.”
“Did you explain my situation?” she pressed, leaning forward anxiously. “Did you mention Ethan Blackwood?” I poured her a glass of water and handed it to her, our fingers brushing briefly. “I gave an overview. You’ll need to discuss the details in person.”
Samantha accepted the water gratefully, taking a small sip. “When
I meet with them?”
“This afternoon,” I replied, watching her eyes widen. “Lawyer Shao is flying in from Hong Harbor specifically
for this.”
Relief washed over her face, transforming her features. “Hong Harbor… Ethan’s influence wouldn’t reach there,
would it?”
“No,” I confirmed with certainty. “The Eastern Territories operate independently from the Northern. Ethan’s power has limits, despite what he might believe.”
Samantha nodded, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since she’d arrived. “I could meet Lawyer Shao for dinner at The Silver Fang Restaurant. I know it’s‘ expensive, but this is important enough to justify it.”
Her expression turned thoughtful, almost embarrassed. “I should bring my own wine, though. I’ve been living on limited funds since I stepped back from my healing duties.”
The mention of her financial situation caught my attention. It seemed Ethan’s control extended to her finances as well–another leash to keep her bound to him.
“The Silver Fang would be perfect,” I agreed, making a mental note to ensure the bill went to me. “Seven
o’clock?”
“Yes, that works.” Samantha glanced at her watch and stood abruptly. “I should get back to my cottage now. I need to prepare some documents for the meeting.”
I rose as well, reaching for my car keys. “I’ll drive you.”
“That’s not necessary,” she protested immediately, shaking her head. “I can call a cab. You’ve alreay done so much.”
“With your injured hand?” I reminded her gently, gesturing to the fresh bandage. “Besides, my schedule is clear this afternoon.”
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She hesitated, clearly torn between Independence and practicality, then nodded in acquiescence. “If you insist.”
In the car, Samantha gazed out the window, lost in thought. The silence between us was comfortable rather than strained. Her scent filled the enclosed space–a delicate floral with undertones of something uniquely her.
“It’s strange,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s been four years since we worked together on The Minister,‘ yet it feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.”
I kept my eyes fixed on the road, aware of her studying my profile. “You were extraordinary in that role.”
She laughed softly, the sound warming the space between us. “And you were so shy back then. Always looking at your feet when you spoke to me.”
“Was I?” I asked lightly, though I remembered perfectly well my awkwardness around her.
“Yes. Very different from now.” She turned more fully in her seat to study me. “You’ve changed. Grown more
confident.”
“So have you,” I replied simply, glancing briefly at her. “Though not entirely for the better. There’s sadness in you now that wasn’t there before.”
Her smile faded, and she turned back to the window. “Marriage to Ethan will do that to a person.”
。
We lapsed into silence again as I navigated through the streets of Ravenwood City. When we arrived at her cottage–a modest but charming structure on the outskirts of town–Samantha looked at me with sudden
suspicion.
“How did you know where I live?” she asked, her hand pausing on the door handle.
“William told me,” I explained smoothly, referring to my assistant.
She nodded, accepting this explanation without further question. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?” The invitation seemed to surprise her as much as me.
The question hung in the air between us, fraught with unspoken implications. She seemed to realize this herself, adding hastily, “Though Ethan might not like it.”
“No,” I agreed, meeting her gaze steadily, “he wouldn’t.”
I observed the conflict in her eyes–the desire for company warring with caution. Her loyalty to Ethan, despite everything, was still influencing her decisions.
“It’s not convenient at the moment,” I said, giving her an easy way out. “But I would gladly accept your invitation once your divorce is finalized and you are truly free.”
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