I struggled to grab a pillow, but my hands were already tied to the headboard, my legs firmly pinned down. Countless hands reached toward me, tearing at my clothes- 

Hot tears could no longer be contained, falling drop by drop. 

When that fat, ugly man took the syringe and aimed it at my thigh, I truly wished I could just die instantly. 

Click! 

The sound of a keycard unlocking came from the door. 

Then a muffled *bang!* 

The door was violently pushed open! 

The needle that was about to pierce my skin suddenly froze in mid–air. 

Before the men could react, black–suited bodyguards rushed in, pinning them to the ground and dragging them out one by one like dead dogs. 

Two female staff members who followed moved swiftly and efficiently, immediately covering me with clothing and untying the restraints on my wrists. 

Third Person POV: 

Outside the door. 

Garrett Wylder wore a white shirt with sleeves half–rolled, several buttons at the collar undone. 

From running all the way here, his pale skin showed a thin layer of flush. His usual aristocratic air was replaced by a cold intensity–like a sharp blade finally unsheathed from its scabbard. 

The two female staff members emerged, their faces still somewhat pale. 

Jack hurried forward, “How is she?” 

“Her clothes were torn somewhat, but… nothing happened yet.“, 

“When we went in, she was terrified. There was blood in her mouth–she seemed to be trying to bite her tongue to commit suicide. She only calmed down after we put a coat on her.” 

One of them hesitated before continuing: “But she’s not lucid and can’t make any sounds. There were dropped syringes on the bed. We… suspect she was injected with something.” 

Fear and pity were unmistakably written on their faces. 

Jack coldly gave them a sum of money, “You cannot say a single word about tonight. If any rumors leak out… don’t blame me for being ruthless.” 

Both women nodded repeatedly, not daring to say another word. 

Someone of Garrett Wylder’s status was not someone they could afford to cross. 

Garrett Wylder entered the room with a stern expression. 

Only silence remained inside. 

Elara was curled up on the bed, eyes closed, her whole being seeming hollowed out by a storm. 

Tear tracks covered her oval face, blood still remaining at the corner of her mouth, and red marks from restraints marred her snow–white wrists. 

I Dumped My Alpha… Now He’s on His Knees 

19.6% 

Chapter 

He leaned down, his fingertips gently touching her face. 

The next moment, that burning cheek quietly pressed against him, nuzzling into his palm. 

Garrett Wylder’s body shuddered, his breathing nearly stopping. 

She slowly opened her eyes, looking at him with dazed pupils like an injured fawn–vacant and helpless. 

He was stunned for a moment, then reached out to stroke her hair, saying softly: 

“Don’t be afraid.” 

The little fawn trustingly closed her eyes again, nestling into his palm. 

Elara’s POV: 

Garrett Wylder carried me as we left through a hidden path behind the hotel. 

Cold wind hit my face. My whole body was limp as mud, only able to lean against him. Jack drove while Garrett Wylder sat in the back seat, holding me the entire time. 

I sat on his lap, head resting on his shoulder, one hand hanging at his chest, the other instinctively gripping the back of his shirt, as if this would prevent me from falling. 

My eyelids were too heavy to open. I felt like I was trapped in a dream detached from reality. 

The dream started as a nightmare–with hands pressing down on me, suffocating stench–but gradually, all of that disappeared. 

A clean, warm scent enveloped me, a faint fragrance of fir trees, like a lamp lit in the snow. 

I thought, as long as I held tight to this scent, I wouldn’t fall into the abyss again. 

The car was unnaturally quiet, no one speaking. 

Going around a sharp turn, my body swayed with the momentum, my head unconsciously brushing against Garrett Wylder’s neck, my lips landing on the side of his neck… 

♡ (7)