Emmanuel jolted awake, feeling like he'd just clawed his way out of a nightmare that went on forever. In that dream, Elena had been covered in blood, hair a mess, screaming at him, asking why he killed her. He wanted to explain—he really did. He never meant for her to end up on that operating table. He'd already found a donor.
But the words just wouldn't come. He stood there, paralyzed, watching her blood pour out uncontrollably, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
Then the sharp smell of disinfectant hit him hard, flooding his nose. That's when he knew—it was just a dream. He tried to sit up.
Half-conscious, he suddenly caught a voice near him, low and menacing, but in the quiet room, he could hear every word.
"Bald Bull, you better not push your luck. I've wired you
