Chapter 305
Third Person’s POV
“When did Mortimer wake up? Why didn’t you mention it before?” Trista asked.
She was just as shocked when she saw the trending topic.
Throughout the past few months, Seraphina had never once mentioned Mortimer in front of anyone.
It was as if, with the mating bond severed, they had been nothing but strangers.
And technically, that was how it was supposed to be. Former mates went their separate ways, no ties, no contact.” But Mortimer had ended up like this because he’d saved Seraphina.
So Trista was sure Seraphina wasn’t as indifferent as she appeared.
Her application to that German neurosurgery institute was proof enough.
She’d done it for one reason only: to find a way to wake Mortimer up.
Trista’s words snapped Seraphina out of her daze.
“I just found out,” she answered, her throat dry, as she pointed at the trending news on her phone.
Trista blinked in surprise, her gaze toward Seraphina suddenly laced with pity.
“No one from the Blade pack thought to tell you?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
After a brief pause, Seraphina mustered a casual shrug. “Well, we did dissolve the bond. They didn’t really have a reason to tell me.”
“That may be true, but you and him-”
“It’s fine. What matters is that he’s awake.” Seraphina cut Trista off, her tone deliberately breezy.
“I have a surgery coming up. I should get going.”
Before Trista could respond, she turned and walked away.
But the moment her back was to her friend, the smile slipped from her face.
Mortimer had been awake for five days.
Why was she only hearing about it now? And from the news, no less!
Was it because… the Blade pack blamed her for putting him in this state?
Or… was this Mortimer’s decision?
A dozen questions churned in Seraphina’s mind, but beneath them all was relief and happiness.
The heavy weight that had been pressing on her heart for so long was finally lifted.
After work that day, Seraphina went to the Iceblade Healing Center. The nurse told her Mortimer had been transferred to the rehabilitation center.
When she arrived, she saw him through the floor-to-ceiling windows from a distance.
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The necrotic tissue on his back had required an extensive skin graft, and he’d need grueling rehab to restore
nction to his back.
Standing outside the rehab room, she watched him struggle through the exercises.
Sweat streartied from his clenched jaw, soaking dark patches into his shirt.
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Even without hearing him, she could imagine the guttural, muffled growls escaping his throat-the anguished cries of his wolf writhing under the strain.
The muscles across his back contracted stiffly, like rusted gears grinding against each other.
Every centimeter upward seemed to require all his strength, as if an invisible force was dragging him back down.
Every muscle trembled with the effort.
A rush of tears pricked at Seraphina’s eyes.
Then, as if sensing her presence-his werewolf instincts kicking in-he stopped mid-motion and turned his head toward her.
Seraphina raised her hand, ready to wave, but he had already turned away,
Her arm faltered, frozen mid-air. She stood there, stunned.
Was he… angry with her?
He was once the proudest, most commanding alpha, but now he was reduced to this-unable to bend or walk without agony, all because he’d saved her. He had every right to hate her.
He must regret saving her, right?
Why else would he look at her with such an empty expression and simply look away?
Seraphina didn’t know how long she stood outside watching Mortimer.
Finally, his strength gave out-his arms buckled, and his body collapsed heavily onto the equipment.
“Mortimer.”
She pushed the door open and hurried inside.
At the sound, he turned his face toward her.
His chest was heaving from the exertion, and those once-sharp, intimidating black eyes were now clouded with a hazy film of exhaustion and pain.
Seraphina’s heart clenched painfully. “Mor-”
“Seraphina?” Velda’s voice came from behind her, startled and flustered.
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