Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother-Chapter 198 We should have answers soon

Victoria’s POV 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"International assassins coming all the way here just to ambush you?" Damien’s voice was laced with suspicion as he studied the gash on his palm.

My wolf, Nora, paced anxiously within me, still on high alert after our narrow escape. "That’s exactly why it feels off," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead. The scent of Damien’s blood—smoky cedar mixed with something metallic—filled the car, making Nora whine with concern.

"I’ve already got people looking into it. We should have answers soon." Damien’s jaw tightened as he adjusted his position in the passenger seat. "But there’s something else strange about this whole situation."

"What’s that?" I asked, my fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as I navigated through traffic. The bond between us hummed with tension—not the mating bond yet, but something powerful nonetheless.

"The person who bet a hundred million dollars on you," he said, wincing slightly as he shifted his injured hand. "I investigated them. The identity wasn’t exactly fake, but borrowed—manipulated. I couldn’t trace who was really behind it." Damien’s eyes narrowed. "If they were at the race, why hide? What are they afraid of revealing?"

The question hung in the air between us. Who would stake such massive resources on me? My wolf stirred restlessly, sensing a hidden threat.

Before I could formulate a theory, we arrived at the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights of the emergency entrance cast harsh shadows across Damien’s pained expression, though he tried to hide it.

I helped him out of the car, my hand instinctively supporting his broad back. "Come on, tough guy. Let’s get that hand looked at."

After checking in at the ER, we were taken to an examination room where a doctor assessed Damien’s wound. The laceration was deep and long, requiring several stitches.

"Will there be any lasting damage?" I asked, unable to mask the worry in my voice. My heart clenched at the thought that he’d been injured protecting me. "Will he have full mobility in his hand afterward?"

The doctor—a beta wolf judging by his scent—gave me a reassuring smile. "It’s just a flesh wound. He’ll heal completely, especially with his Alpha healing capabilities."

Relief washed through me. Still, watching the doctor clean the wound made my stomach twist. The antiseptic smell mixed with blood made Nora restless.

When the doctor prepared the needle for stitching, Damien suddenly flinched. "That hurts!"

The doctor looked confused. "That’s strange. The local anesthetic should have numbed the area completely."

"Please be gentle with him," I said automatically, my protective instincts flaring.

Damien’s eyes found mine, a mischievous glint appearing despite his pain. "Hold my hand, Victoria. It won’t hurt if you’re holding my hand."

I knew he was playing me—the local anesthetic would have numbed any pain—but seeing his wound exposed, raw and vulnerable, broke through my defenses. I extended my hand, and Damien immediately interlaced our fingers, his large palm engulfing mine.

The warmth of his touch sent a current through my body that Nora responded to with a pleased rumble. We stayed connected until the doctor finished the last stitch, applied medication, and wrapped his hand in clean bandages.

"The wound isn’t serious enough to keep you here. You can go home, but keep it dry and clean," the doctor instructed, looking at both of us. "Follow a bland diet for a few days to help with healing."

"Thank you, doctor. I’ll make sure he follows your instructions," I promised, accepting the prescription for antibiotics and pain medication.

As we left the examination room, Damien leaned closer, his breath tickling my ear. "So how exactly are you planning to supervise me? Maybe you should stay at my place for a couple of days?"

His scent enveloped me—smoky cedar intensified by adrenaline and something uniquely Damien—making it hard to think straight.

"You saved me today," I replied, the words coming easier than I expected. "The least I can do is help take care of you."

We were walking toward the exit, already planning our evening, when a familiar scent hit me—bitter coffee and cheap cologne. My body tensed immediately.

Ethan stood near the hospital entrance, cigarette butts scattered around his feet like fallen soldiers. When he spotted us, his eyes widened, hardening with instant hostility.

"Well, look who’s here," he sneered, flicking his half-finished cigarette to the ground. "Come to enjoy the show? To laugh at me?"

My wolf snarled, hackles raised. "Our visit to the hospital has nothing to do with you," I said coldly. "And we certainly didn’t come to speak with you. Don’t flatter yourself." I tugged at Damien’s uninjured hand. "Let’s go."

Every encounter with Ethan poisoned my mood. Five years wasted on someone who never deserved a single minute.

Before we could leave, a black SUV pulled up, and Marcia Cross stepped out with Lawrence Sterling—Damien’s father and Ethan’s enabler. Marcia looked devastated, her face pale and drawn as if she’d aged years in hours.

When she spotted me, her grief transformed into rage. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You! What are you doing here?"

Her eyes were wild, unhinged. "It was you, wasn’t it? You killed my grandson! You murderer! Give him back to me!"

She lunged toward me, but Damien moved faster, positioning himself between us despite his injury. His Alpha presence flared, making everyone in the vicinity—even humans—instinctively step back.

"Make another move toward her," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave that made my skin prickle, "and you’ll lose your son too."

The threat hung in the air like a thundercloud. Marcia froze, tears streaming down her face.

"Whatever happened to Ethan’s child has nothing to do with us," Damien continued, his voice cold enough to frost the summer air. "Ask anyone who was there. But if any of you come after Victoria, you’ll find only a dead end—literally."

His protective stance made Nora purr with approval inside me. As he guided me toward the car, he turned back to his father with one final warning: "Control your wife and your son. Anyone who threatens what’s mine will face consequences."

I slid into the driver’s seat, acutely aware of Damien’s intense gaze on me as I started the engine. His injury meant I needed to drive, but something told me that even wounded, Damien Sterling was the most dangerous man in that parking lot.