Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Elsa

A nurse came in to change my IV, and I noticed the same look in her eyes, too. That soft, sympathetic gaze people reserve for those who’ve suffered a genuine tragedy.

“When can I leave?” I asked, trying to sit up. The movement sent a sharp pain through my lower abdomen, and I winced.

‘I’d like to keep you under observation until tomorrow morning at least,” Dr. Reynolds replied. “You need fluids and rest.”

After they left, I reached for my phone on the bedside table. Seven missed calls from Sophia and a string of increasingly panicked texts. With shaking fingers, I dialed her number.

“Elsa! Oh my god, are you okay? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m fine,” I lied, staring at the ceiling, my fingers unconsciously moving to my lower stomach. “Just in the hospital for observation. Apparently I had alcohol poisoning.”

“And?” Her voice was tense, expectant.

“And I got my period really badly,” I said, the words feeling strange on my tongue. “They’re keeping me overnight because of

the blood loss.”

A long pause. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

My heart skipped a beat. Does she know something I don’t? “What else would it be?” My heart rate picked up, the monitor beside me beeping slightly faster.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just… worried about you. Do you want me to come visit?”

“No need. I’ll be out tomorrow.” I didn’t want her to see me like this, didn’t want to answer more questions I wasn’t sure I had

answers for.

We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. I lay back against the pillows, a cold dread settling in my stomach. Everyone’s hiding something from me. Something about my own fucking body. And I’m too weak, too pathetic to demand

answers.

My phone rang just after noon, Drake’s name flashing on the screen. My finger hovered over the decline button.

1/3

“Where are you?” His voice was sharp, business-like, with no trace of the concern he’d shown last night in the car.

‘Still in the hospital,” I replied. “Why?”

I need you to pick up the special moonlight pastries from Silver Leaf Bakery and bring them to my home tonight for the

dinner.

I almost laughed at the absurdity. A harsh, bitter sound bubbled up in my throat. Less than twelve hours ago, I was unconscious in his arms, bleeding profusely, and now he wanted me to play caterer for a pack function?

Unbelievable. I could have died last night for all he cares, and he’s worried about fucking pastries.

“I can’t,” I said, surprising myself with my directness. “The doctor says I need to rest.”

“It’s just a dinner, Elsa. You’ve attended dozens before.” His irritation was palpable through the phone. “The pack elders will be there, and they’re expecting those pastries.”

“Why can’t Vera get them?” I asked, the name like acid on my tongue.

A pause. “The elders don’t particularly care for Vera. They’ll make the evening difficult for her.”

The implication was clear: he wanted me there as a buffer, to take the heat off his precious future mate. After ten years, I was still just a convenient shield.

Of course. Heaven forbid his precious Vera face any discomfort. Better to drag me out of a hospital bed.

“So you want me to be the target instead?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

“Don’t be dramatic.” His tone cooled further. “You know how to handle the elders. Vera doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Drake, but I’m literally in a hospital bed. The doctor advised rest.”

“Fine,” he snapped before hanging up.

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