Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 98

Jason strides into the hospital room. His gaze sweeps through the space, taking in the machines

beeping, the x-rays mounted on the wall and the physician standing quietly at my bedside.

"You're here!”

"There was a traffic jam on the highway, or I would’ve been here sooner," he says.

“You arrived faster than I expected.” Now that he’s with me, I’m happy, but part of me also feels guilty. “I

hate that I inconvenienced you…”

Jason moves to the opposite side of the hospital bed to engage the physician directly.

Lina returns to the room and hands me a small cup of water. “One second you were in the ER, the next

you were gone. Sorry, Grace. It took me a minute to figure out where they’d moved you to.”

“I’m fine.” I sip the water.

“Doctor, how is she?” Lina asks. “Is my friend all right? She was knocked down an escalator and fell

several steps.”

Jason growls.

I blanch. His eyes flash gold and, no, no, no! He can’t lose it here. There are far too many humans…

“Easy, sir,” the doctor says. He pats Jay’s back. “Miss Cummins is stable.”

“What is my condition?” I ask.

I wish Lina hadn’t relayed the events like that. I’m not too happy with my friend right now. A muscle in

Jason’s jaw starts to tick.

"The injury is not too serious,” the doctor says. “Your spleen is swollen, but there doesn’t appear to be

any fluid accumulating elsewhere. You’ve a lot of bruises, but no pronounced internal bleeding.

“Thank God!” Lina says.

“You are concussed, however. You’ll experience headaches, dizziness, nausea, Concussions are a

form of brain injury and you need to rest.” NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

I whacked my head really hard on the third stair down, I think. Then once I started tumbling, whatever

body part hit the sharp metal edge of the stairs too the brunt of the damage. Thankfully, I only recall

hitting my head once.

Dr. Craigge slides a number of X-rays into a rack on the wall and then flips on the lights behind them.

What’s visible are my hands, my arm, ankles and wrists and feet.

The fractures and breaks are obvious.

He points to one fracture on a foot scan. “There are some slight fractures. We’ll put her one foot in a

brace, and she should stay off it for a few weeks to allow the bones around her ankle to heal, but..." Dr.

Craigge hesitates.

"But what?" Jason asks in a frigid tone.

I tremble.

“There are injuries that would point to more sustained, systemic trauma.” He gestures toward the X-

rays of her hands. “You sustained multiple broken bones and fractures. Many of these injuries to your

fingers did not set properly, and at this stage, it’s unlikely given the bone fusion and time lapsed that re-

breaking and resetting the bones would affect any positive change.”

I start wringing my hands.

The pain is a welcome distraction.

The doctor clears his throat. And I force myself to meet his gaze again.

“I’ve noticed a number of areas on your hands, arms, feet and legs that point to significant trauma.”

I know damn well who and what had caused those injuries.

And the doctor… it seems like he’s digging for information. He probably thinks I am an abused woman.

And I had been. Just not by some vile husband or family member.

My injuries had come in the form of retaliation and on behalf of wealthy packs.

“What is the prognosis on the older injuries?” Jason asks carefully. Again, his voice is underlaced with

hostility.

“It’s hard to say,” Dr. Craigge admits. “In my professional opinion, given the traumas and how they

healed, there will be numerous complications. Perhaps if Miss Cummins had sustained suitable care at

the time of the assaults, the conversation would be different now…”

"Complications?" I frown. "I don't think there's anything wrong with my body."

"You are still young now, so the effects will be less pronounced, and, you’ve adequately adapted to the

pain. But injuries like this can play into degenerative issues, so as you age, the complications will

slowly come out."

"What kind of complications?" Jason asks bluntly.

"In the future, you may often feel pain in your joints. There will most certainly be arthritis. You may have

sustained nerve damage or cramping. If it is serious, you may not be able to lift heavy things with your

hands, and you might have trouble walking," Dr. Craigge says.

I remain silent. My old wounds are from my time in prison. Prisoners are afforded the minimal treatment

required by law. There are no gifted surgeons to reset bones. My fingers were put in soft splints and

taped.

Yes, the attacks had been painful, and the time spent recovering from them, even more so.

Even now, her bones and joints ached. So no doubt, what the doctor said about residual pain and

worsening, debilitating injuries over time… it all made sense.

"Then... is there any way to cure it?" Lina's voice is shaky with emotion.

"You mainly need to recuperate and eat food that's high in calcium. Osteoporosis later in life would

compound these issues significantly. Eat foods that reduce swelling and inflammation. Take vitamins

and minerals. Also, you have to take good care of yourself. You can’t afford to continue to abuse your

body,” Dr. Craigge says.

I lean back and stare off at the far wall.

“Prolonged abuses can shorten a lifespan or significantly impact the quality of life.” He flips the light off

and removes the x-rays. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

A tear trickles from the corner of my eye. I’m not even sure why I’m crying. I hurt, yes, but they

administered something for the pain.

I’m mortal, so I shouldn’t be crying about that. Everyone and everything dies eventually.

I can’t call upon my wolf, but I’ve been dealing with Ava’s loss for a long time now.

I’m not really sure why I’m crying.

I’m just sad.

These last few years, it seems all I’ve known is abuse. Being out of prison, I’ve been accosted by my

own sister, by ‘friends’ of Sean and even his sister and fiancee.

Would I ever know any peace?

“…she can stay a few days and we can monitor her,” Dr. Craigge is saying. “There are new stem cell

treatments, they’re in early stages of testing, but they may help with recovery and healing. They’re

expensive—“

“—I want to go home.”

“Grace, I think you should listen to the doctor,” Jason says.

“I will,” I agree.. “I’ll take it easy and rest. Please. I just want to go home. Jay, please take me home.”

The tears are coming in earnest now, so much that room is too blurry to see anyone clearly. I sense

that Jay wants to argue with me and if he does, I’ll be stuck here.

But I can’t afford to rest here. And if my only options are experimental treatments then there’s nothing

more to do here.

“Lina,” Jason says, “Please work with Dr. Craigge to determine any medicines Grace will need and

what follow up treatments he recommends.”

I hold out my arms to Jay and he carefully, gently helps me to sit up. When I try to stand, my ankle

sends a shooting pain to my brain and my leg nearly buckles before I get a grip on the pain and find my

balance.

I take a step. Then another one. Jay holds me, but I’m walking and that’s progress. There is some kind

of boot on my foot and it makes each step uneven. A sensation that I feel from my foot up through my

hip which also aches.

“There’s no way you’re walking out of here.” Jay picks me up.

“Jay this place is huge. Let’s get a wheelchair. You can’t carry me all the way to Lina’s car.” I rub my

head. There are butterfly bandages over one side of my temple, where I first hit the step. I didn’t need

stitches. That’s one small win. “I’m sure there will be paperwork, so I need to handle that first. I’ll have

to go on a payment plan. The county offers insurance, but I don’t think it’ll cover a fraction of this.”

“Let’s not worry about that now,” Jason says. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

"Actually, it's not that bad." I lie. “My ankle aches, but honestly, I’ve had worse. You heard the doctor.

He said that it’ll only take a few weeks to heal."

Jason presses his lips together. "The old wounds that the doctor mentioned – did you get them while in

prison?"

I wave my hand like it wasn’t a big deal. "I was beaten in prison many times, but it wasn't serious. Such

things are common there.”

Jason curses again.

“Truly, it’s not a big deal. I think the Doctor was being a bit dramatic. I’ll be fine. Some vitamins, some

rest, and these old wounds will be a thing of the past.”

The calmer I am, the angrier Jay gets.

"Sister, do you hate the person who put you in prison?" he wants to know.

"Who would I hate? Should I hate the judge? The Atkinson family? Or Pack Stevens that has been

unwilling to help me? Or maybe I should hate Alpha Reed himself, right? Because really, he’s the root

of everything.”