I stir awake, my body slumped at the foot of the bed.
Then,...
Panic crawls through me when I realize Damian isn't on the bed. I'm sure I left him there last night. He should've been dead by now. How could he still move?
I frantically search for him throughout the yacht, but he's nowhere.
Until,...
One of the staff appears and ascends on the yacht, her face apologetic. "Alpha Damian was limping toward the deck when we saw him early this morning. He could barely breathe. He's begging for our help, so we rushed him to the nearest clinic. I'm sorry we didn't wake you immediately. We were all panicking."
"How's he?" I ask, trying to sound genuinely concerned while praying for a favorable answer.
"His vital signs are stable now. The doctor said there's too much alcohol in his system, and a couple of our packmates mentioned they saw him drinking a lot since the day before yesterday."
