Scattered on the Wind

“Dean!” Hazel’s hands were trembling as she felt along his back, her voice breaking with panic. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? We have to get you to the hospital!”

Dean’s brow was furrowed from the pain, and cold sweat formed at his temple. Yet, he forced a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing. It’s just a minor injury. You finally wanted to come out and have fun. I’m not going to ruin that for you.”

“No! We have to go to the hospital!” Hazel insisted.

Morgan watched the scene, a couple bound together by shared hardship, and felt a bitter mix of irony and suffocating frustration. She could not stand being there any longer and stood up to leave.

Dean grabbed her wrist, his grip firm, his tone sharp with accusation. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Morgan struggled and pulled back, mocking him. “What, are you coming with me?”

Dean fell silent, loosening his grip slightly. After a long pause, he spoke stiffly, “Go ahead.”

With that, Morgan sneered and walked away without looking back.

The rest of the people there tried to smooth things over. “Dean, Morgan’s just jealous. Go comfort her!”

Dean’s gaze lingered on the doorway, his brow tightly knit. In the end, he replied coldly, “Don’t worry about her. She’ll figure it out on her own.”

Alone back at her apartment, Morgan noticed something unusual: neither Dean nor Jake had appeared all night. For once, she had an undisturbed evening, yet sleep eluded her.

Late that night, her phone suddenly rang sharply. It was Dean.

“Morgan, get to Central City Hospital immediately!” His voice was urgent and icy. Before she could answer, he hung up.

Confused and hesitant, Morgan quickly made her way to the hospital. As soon as she arrived at the emergency room, Dean grabbed her arm with such force that it felt like he might crush her bones.

“Hazel was in a car accident! She’s losing a lot of blood! She’s RH-negative, and the blood bank is running low! You have the same blood type. Give her yours now!”

Morgan stared at him in shock. “You called me here to give her blood?”

“Or what? Watch her die? Move!” Dean’s tone brooked no argument as he practically dragged her toward the blood donation room.

“I’m not going! Let go, Dean!” Morgan struggled, fear and anger fighting for dominance.

However, against Dean’s absolute strength, her resistance was meaningless. She was forced into the chair, the needle piercing her vein.

Looking at the blood flowing into the bag, the nurse frowned. “Mr. Lyon, you’ve taken 1000cc. Any more could be dangerous for her.”

Dean’s gaze remained fixed on the operating room, his expression cold and unyielding. “No. Hazel has a blood-clotting disorder. Draw extra for her. Now!”

As the needle continued to drain her blood, dizziness and chills washed over Morgan until her vision went black and she lost consciousness. When she awoke, she was lying in a hospital bed with an IV drip attached to the back of her hand. Dean was sitting beside her.

The first words she heard were not concern but a sharp reprimand. “Morgan, I never thought you’d be so cruel to tamper with Hazel’s car brakes? Do you want her dead?”

Morgan froze, incredulous. “I didn’t! When did I ever touch her car?”

“Hazel said so herself! Only you had an excuse to get close to her car!” Dean did not even bother to consider her denial, his gaze sharp. “The evidence is clear. What’s your excuse?”

In that moment, everything clicked. This was just another trap orchestrated entirely by Hazel, and Dean chose to believe it.

Morgan opened her mouth to explain, but she realized that all her words were powerless. He had long since made up his mind.