Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 51Lawrence

Chapter Fifty-One

Lawrence

"Second floor, but we're not done with in-processing" the receptionist says, barely looking up from her computer.

"Thanks." I don't wait for more information. Time is a luxury I can't afford. My shoes pound against the polished hospital floor as I make a beeline for the elevators, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Sir!" She's calling after me now, her voice sharp with authority. "Visitors aren't allowed yet!"

Her words ricochet off the sterile walls, but they don't slow me down. Rules? They're nothing compared to the knot of dread tightening in my gut. Willow could be up there, hurt—or worse. I jab the elevator button, willing the damn thing to hurry up.

I step into the elevator the second it dings open. The doors slide shut, cutting off the receptionist's protests. Up we go, the car climbing with agonizing slowness. I tap my foot, every second an eternity. If anything's happened to Willow because of that damned pipeline...

The doors open, and I barrel through the second-floor corridor, eyes scanning for a nurse, anyone who can point me in Willow's direction. “The explosion,” I blurt out to the first scrubs-clad figure I spot. “I’m looking for Willow.”

The nurse’s brows knit together, a hint of confusion in her gaze before recognition sparks. "Room 204," she says, gesturing down the hall.

My thanks is a muttered blur as I sprint towards the door marked "204." My hand wraps around the handle, heart hammering in anticipation of seeing Willow. But when the door swings open, the scene inside knocks the breath from my lungs.

The leader of the Earth Defenders, River, lies sprawled on a hospital bed, a patchwork of gauze and bruises marring his usually fierce features. No sign of Willow, just him. Confusion coils tight in my chest, anger close on its heels. "What the hell happened?" I demand, stepping into the white room.

His green eyes, dimmed with pain or guilt, lock onto mine. "I screwed up," he rasps, voice barely above a whisper. His confession hits like a punch; he led the action, the one that backfired into a fiery nightmare.

"Willow?" My voice cracks, urgency bleeding through. He shakes his head slightly, regret etched deep in his expression.

"Was with me, then... she must've left." His words are shards of glass in my gut.

"Must have left?" I echo, disbelief and tension warring in my tone. The River I know is all conviction and fight, not this beaten figure with his vague answers.

"Where is she now?" I press, my relief that she wasn't caught in the explosion now morphing into a gnawing pit of worry. His eyes are hollow, regretful, and frustratingly clueless.

"Sorry," he mutters, his voice a broken whisper, "I don't know."

"Damn it," I curse under my breath, turning on my heel. The hospital lights buzz overhead as my frustration mounts with each step I take away from River's room. Anger and concern are a tangled knot in my gut. Where could she be?

I storm through the corridor, my footsteps echoing too loud in the tense silence that blankets the second floor. As I reach the sliding doors at the exit, they part, only to reveal a chaotic swarm of reporters, still hungry for a story.

"Can you comment on the explosion?" one yells, shoving a microphone towards me.

"Is it true Earth Defenders caused this?" another shouts, camera flashing in my eyes.

"Get out of my way," I snap, dodging the forest of extended arms and pointed questions. The air outside is cold, but I barely feel it as I push past the media vultures.

I slam the car door behind me. My hands are shaking as I jam the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, mirroring the turmoil inside me. I need to find Willow. I have to make sure she's okay.

I dial her number, but there’s no answer. Not even a voicemail box that’s been set up yet.

"Think," I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. "Where would you go, Willow?"

The car lurches forward as I hit the gas a little too hard. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. River's confession plays on a loop in my head. He seemed so defeated, so unlike the firebrand I've known him to be. And Willow... she just vanished into thin air.

"Dammit, Willow, why didn't you tell me where you were going?" I say out loud, hoping the sound of my voice will fill the empty space and help me think.

Pieces of our last conversation drift through my memory. "Come on, give me something," I plead, as if the memories could answer.

Her passion, her drive—she'd go somewhere meaningful, somewhere significant for her cause.

My foot presses harder on the accelerator, the scenery blurring as I navigate the familiar roads. Each mile marker ticks by like a second hand in my head. I tap the steering wheel, trying to sync the rhythm with my racing thoughts. Where would Willow go? The question gnaws at me, relentless.

Then, all at once, it clicks.

"Of course," I say aloud, the answer so clear now.

I jerk the wheel hard left, tires screech, and the car lurches as I make a U-turn. My pulse hammers in my ears, matching the thud of rubber on road.

"Coming for you," I promise the empty seat beside me. "Gonna make this right."