The Jilted Stray Is A Zillionaire Heiress

Ten seconds passed. The piercing tone of the flatline alarm drilled into their skulls. Every second felt like an hour. Camden gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. His knuckles were bone-white. His gray-blue eyes were locked onto his grandfather's motionless chest, his breathing shallow and ragged. Outside, Cole and the mercenaries pressed their faces against the rain-slicked glass, watching the disaster unfold in absolute horror. Eloise remained slumped against the metal wall. She was breathing heavily, her face paler than before, but her dark eyes were steady, watching the rune. Suddenly, the thick blood smeared across Barton's chest began to sink. The skin absorbed the crimson ink as if drinking it in, leaving only a faint red scar in the shape of the rune. Then, the EKG monitor hitched. The solid red line spiked upward. Beep. Camden's pupils dilated. He leaned forward so hard he nearly tipped out of the wheelchair. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The erratic spikes quickly organized into a steady, rhythmic, powerful heartbeat. The horrifying blue-black hue of death retreated from Barton's face, washing away like dirt under a faucet. A faint, healthy pink flushed his cheeks. The old man, who had been clinically brain-dead for three days, suddenly arched his back. His chest he heave violently. Barton opened his mouth and sucked in a massive, ragged breath of air, sounding like a drowning man breaking the surface of the ocean. Outside the truck, the mercenaries gasped collectively. Cole's jaw dropped. His pistol slipped from his fingers and splashed into the puddles on the asphalt. It was a miracle. A literal defiance of medical science. Camden's eyes grew red around the edges. His hand trembled violently as he reached out and pressed two fingers against his grandfather's carotid artery. The pulse was strong. It was beating against his fingertips with undeniable life. Camden slowly turned his head. He looked at Eloise, who was wiping the remaining blood from her fingers. The look in his eyes was no longer cold or calculating. It was a mixture of absolute shock and a dark, consuming obsession. Eloise straightened her coat. She walked over to the bed and casually yanked out the IV lines that were pumping useless chemicals into Barton's arm. "The blood clot in his brain has been dissolved by the rune," Eloise said, her voice returning to its usual flat tone. "But his physical body is exhausted." She looked down at Camden. "Take him back to your private estate immediately. Do not take him to a hospital. The chemical drugs will destroy the natural life force he just regained." Camden took a deep, shuddering breath. He forced his emotions down, locking them behind his iron will. He looked up at her, his voice thick with genuine reverence. "Thank you." Eloise dusted off her hands. She extended her left palm toward him. "Don't thank me," Eloise said. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars. Pay up."