Chasing Fate (Sentinel & Guide)

Chapter 66

[[Unedited]]

Wyatt had never, EVER seen Jack truly enraged before. He'd seen him upset, he'd seen him disappointed, he'd seen him pissed off before in all his years growing up in the clan. But he'd never seen true rage from the alpha. His car felt like a shoebox sitting next to him. It was like he'd grown three feet in anger. 

The panic bar had been ripped from the steel frame, causing a dent. Jack's fists were clenched and Wyatt feared that if he struck out against the dashboard he'd trigger an airbag. Martha wasn't much better. She was a petite, thin woman, but he could see where her sharp nails had torn into the leather seat. 

They reached the hospital in record time, Wyatt skidding to a halt in front of the emergency room doors. Jack and Martha had already opened the side door before he could come to a full stop, running in where Elliot and Neha were waiting to take them up. The others were there as well. Every clan sentinel and guide in the three block radius near the hospital had arrived, some still in their pajamas. Most were on their phones, relaying messages from the ER waiting room as the few sick nulls waiting on intake watched in confusion and fear. 

Wyatt had barely started to pull away when three vans showed up, cameras already flashing. The windows of the police vehicle were tinted for privacy but the front of the ER was not. One was already livestreaming into his phone, narrating a bunch of speculation as to why the Elder Guide and Heir to the Hammond clan had suddenly rushed into the hospital. Had Fate died?

He didn't even hide his glee. A vulture.  

Wyatt resisted the urge to go and smack the phone from his hand. The paps had a good nose for this sort of thing. A regular person would not have understood what was going on, but most clan-hounding paps knew enough about sentinel gathering to tell when a posse formed.

Sentinels did not gather like this for any regular hospitalization. Sure there would be well wishes and condolences, a constant train of visitors if the clan head was injured. Even when the previous clan head had died of old age the response was measured and careful. The presence of a pack of sentinels could unnerve even the most stoic of people. It felt like a military invasion, even if some of the clansfolk just had on robes and slippers. 

Wyatt moved to park the vehicle and shepherd the paps away from the entrance when the police radio in his vehicle and the monitor radios in theirs started crackling to life. 

"APB All hands. Looking for a brown Honda Civic license plate XER345. White male, approximately 6'5" 200 lbs . Clan alert level Critical. Suspect is wanted in connection to abduction of the Guide prime and stabbing of Senior Alpha Prime. I repeat. This is a critical issue. Null officers are warned to take extra precaution near Hammond sentinels. Do not engage. For your safety I repeat, do not engage."
 
Wyatt watched in rage as the pap's eyes widened in unrestrained glee. They were the first to get the scoop of the century. One of the five was immediately on the phone shouting at an editor while two others dodged into a van to start uploading, the satellite transmitter swinging wildly. The lone woman of the group dodged to the car to get her blazer and took her hair down, smearing on bright lipstick and preparing to give an on-scene report. 

This was in a word, Big.

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Any agent worth their salt in the industry had a contact list full of papparazzi. It was an essential if they wanted to make sure their celeb stayed relevant. A schedule blind-copied here, an email correspondence there. These calculated leaks made sure that the public always had a tasty morsel of speculation to keep them overinvested.

Of course for Kaylee Anne it was rare for these contacts to contact HER about news, but her phone was buzzing off of its charger at nearly midnight. She could barely read the notifications at the speed they were coming in, but the gist was immediately clear.