HAUNTINGLY | 18+

32 | Waiting Game

Xavier's POV

After Axel finally left my house, I made a promise to myself that I would never agree to another meeting with him again. Fuck, that guy could talk for hours.

But I'm relieved that he agreed to find Jason in exchange for attending the fight. Not that he had much of a choice.

I wandered into the kitchen to pour myself another glass of whiskey when my phone started ringing.

I answered the call. "What's up, Hunter?" I said.

There was a moment of silence, the sound of sirens echoing in the background.

"I need you to stay calm," his voice quivered, fear evident in his words.

"Hunter," I began. "What the fuck happened?"

"Layla and I were in a car accident," he spoke with a trembling voice, each word heavy. "Someone ran a red light and hit Layla's side of the car."

My heart raced, a surge of anger boiling inside me. "Where the fuck is she? Put Layla on the fucking phone, now."

"I can't, Xavier," Hunter's voice wavered, a mix of fear and distress. "I swear to you, it wasn't my fault."

I barked back, my words dripping with rage, "You have exactly three fucking seconds to let me hear her voice or I'll fucking kill you."

"The blood, Xavier," he stammered, the weight of his words hitting hard. "She was bleeding so damn much. I tried...I tried to keep her conscious, but..." His voice broke, a mix of despair and regret.

My heart dropped to my stomach. I couldn't believe what I was fucking hearing. I knew I shouldn't have let her go out without me. I should've fucking been there.

"Where the fuck is she?"

"At the hospital, the one near your house," he replied, his words strained.

I abruptly ended the call, and grabbed my keys from the table. I raced to my car, practically throwing myself into the driver's seat, and sped towards the hospital.

I swerved recklessly through traffic, the world outside a blur, but I didn't give a fuck. All I cared about was Layla. I needed to be with her, to see her, to make sure she was alive.

I reached the damn hospital in just seven minutes. My car screeched to a halt as I practically leaped out, bolting through the hospital entrance. I zeroed in on the front desk.

"Layla Rose. I need to see her," I told the woman seated there.

She typed something on her computer and then looked at me. "I'm sorry you can't see—"

I drew my gun, its cold metal glinting in the harsh light, and pointed it right at her. "I strongly suggest you choose your words very, very carefully," I spoke with a deceptive calmness masking the danger underneath. "As I said, I need to see Layla Rose."

Her eyes glistened with fear, tears gathering at the edges. "She's...she's in the surgery room at the moment. The surgery is expected to be finished in an hour," she managed to say, her voice quivering.

"What room will they take her to after the surgery?"

"Room 203," she blurted, her gaze fixed on the gun in my hand. "There's a waiting area right across from that room. You could wait there," she offered hurriedly.

I concealed the gun beneath my shirt. A wry smile played on my lips. "See? Now that wasn't so fucking hard, was it?"

She shook her head, the lingering panic still evident in her eyes. Leaving the front desk behind, I swiftly made my way to the waiting room situated across from room 203.