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Knight-in-Arms - Ultimatum: (BWWM Interracial Paranormal Billionaire Shifter Romance Part Four [Final]) by Athena Dore
Authors: Athena Dore
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~*~
A booming, whirring sound rushed through the window. Rochelle looked up.
The doors burst open and there was a flurry of white as six people in white coats rushed in, the two at the front holding guns, poised to shoot.
Rochelle shrank back from them, shielding Xavier with her body. He was laying there so conspicuously. She wished she could hide him but it was already too late.
The two armed men scoured the room with their gaze.
One spotted them.
"Target sighted" he cried.
The rest of them turned to the 'target' and started coming towards her. This was it, thought Rochelle, this was the end. She tried even harder to shield Xavier from the attackers but she knew it was futile. She closed her eyes.
"It's all right" said a woman close to her as she knelt down beside Xavier, "We're the people you called. We're here to help".
Rochelle relaxed - as much as she could with an unconscious, bleeding Xavier before her.
In an instant, the team had whisked him onto a stretcher and out of the room. Rochelle went along with them, trying to keep up with their speed.
They brought him along a passage. It was dim, the only light coming from brackets adorning the oak-panelled walls.
There was a lift at the end. They all shuffled inside. It was deadly silent. Rochelle could feel her heat beating, keeping in time with her thoughts. Please don't die. Please don't die. Please don't die.
She watched the dial go to the top floor. Then, everyone spilled out. An empty corridor, like the one on the previous floor. They walked along until they came to a door.
Stairs.
The stairs led to the roof and perched there in the helipad was a large, black helicopter.
The door was already open, waiting for him. Everyone darted inside and there was a loud rumble as the helicopter whirred into life. Then, they were off.
Rochelle watched helplessly as the team swooped into action, hooking him up to machines and apparatus she didn't understand, using technical medical jargon she couldn't quite follow. She understood though that his condition was serious and it was too early to tell whether he would make it.
It felt like they had been up in the air for an age but it couldn't have been more than a couple of hours as soon enough, she saw the familiar lights of the London Eye, Westminster and the glistening surface of the Thames. They were over London.
She turned back to Xavier as they landed. She hadn't stopped holding his hand.
They landed. Everything became a blur. The team whisked him from the helicopter, transferring him to a trolley and took him inside. She tried to keep up but they were too fast.
It was bright inside. For a moment, she was dazzled.
Dr Cate Astor met them just inside the door.
One of the team started filling her in on his condition. Rochelle tried to listen to them, to understand how he was doing but once again, it was just jargon.
They took him down an empty corridor. The walls were clinically white - sterile and uninviting.
And then he went through a set of double doors where she was unable to follow.
Silence. And waiting. And more silence. No news was good news, wasn't it? But she wasn't so sure. She felt sick and anxious. All she could do was replay the moment in her head as she saw the knife slice into his abdomen.
If she had been quicker...more alert, she could have stopped it from happening.
Guilt.
It was her fault.
Sitting out there, isolated and tormented by the echoes of her never ending thoughts, she dosed off, falling into a shallow sleep accompanied by troubled dreams. Xavier was dead and it was all her fault.
"Rochelle?"
She stirred and woke up. Xavier was dead. She felt a sickening lurch in her chest.
As she became more awake, she realised it had just been a dream. Instead, her stomach twisted itself in knots as she remembered that she still didn't know how he was. To
A booming, whirring sound rushed through the window. Rochelle looked up.
The doors burst open and there was a flurry of white as six people in white coats rushed in, the two at the front holding guns, poised to shoot.
Rochelle shrank back from them, shielding Xavier with her body. He was laying there so conspicuously. She wished she could hide him but it was already too late.
The two armed men scoured the room with their gaze.
One spotted them.
"Target sighted" he cried.
The rest of them turned to the 'target' and started coming towards her. This was it, thought Rochelle, this was the end. She tried even harder to shield Xavier from the attackers but she knew it was futile. She closed her eyes.
"It's all right" said a woman close to her as she knelt down beside Xavier, "We're the people you called. We're here to help".
Rochelle relaxed - as much as she could with an unconscious, bleeding Xavier before her.
In an instant, the team had whisked him onto a stretcher and out of the room. Rochelle went along with them, trying to keep up with their speed.
They brought him along a passage. It was dim, the only light coming from brackets adorning the oak-panelled walls.
There was a lift at the end. They all shuffled inside. It was deadly silent. Rochelle could feel her heat beating, keeping in time with her thoughts. Please don't die. Please don't die. Please don't die.
She watched the dial go to the top floor. Then, everyone spilled out. An empty corridor, like the one on the previous floor. They walked along until they came to a door.
Stairs.
The stairs led to the roof and perched there in the helipad was a large, black helicopter.
The door was already open, waiting for him. Everyone darted inside and there was a loud rumble as the helicopter whirred into life. Then, they were off.
Rochelle watched helplessly as the team swooped into action, hooking him up to machines and apparatus she didn't understand, using technical medical jargon she couldn't quite follow. She understood though that his condition was serious and it was too early to tell whether he would make it.
It felt like they had been up in the air for an age but it couldn't have been more than a couple of hours as soon enough, she saw the familiar lights of the London Eye, Westminster and the glistening surface of the Thames. They were over London.
She turned back to Xavier as they landed. She hadn't stopped holding his hand.
They landed. Everything became a blur. The team whisked him from the helicopter, transferring him to a trolley and took him inside. She tried to keep up but they were too fast.
It was bright inside. For a moment, she was dazzled.
Dr Cate Astor met them just inside the door.
One of the team started filling her in on his condition. Rochelle tried to listen to them, to understand how he was doing but once again, it was just jargon.
They took him down an empty corridor. The walls were clinically white - sterile and uninviting.
And then he went through a set of double doors where she was unable to follow.
Silence. And waiting. And more silence. No news was good news, wasn't it? But she wasn't so sure. She felt sick and anxious. All she could do was replay the moment in her head as she saw the knife slice into his abdomen.
If she had been quicker...more alert, she could have stopped it from happening.
Guilt.
It was her fault.
Sitting out there, isolated and tormented by the echoes of her never ending thoughts, she dosed off, falling into a shallow sleep accompanied by troubled dreams. Xavier was dead and it was all her fault.
"Rochelle?"
She stirred and woke up. Xavier was dead. She felt a sickening lurch in her chest.
As she became more awake, she realised it had just been a dream. Instead, her stomach twisted itself in knots as she remembered that she still didn't know how he was. To
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