Chapter 413
Chapter 413:
“Dad doesn’t really drink,” Azalea continued. “I mean, he holds a glass, but he never gets drunk. Except once, I overheard him telling Mr. Sharpe a story about his army days — about how they used to drink vodka to stay warm on missions. He said he learned to treat it like water p>
Eliza frowned. “What p>
“He faked it,” Azalea said. “With you, he always acted tipsy after two glasses of wine p>
Eliza thought back. The nights he would stumble, leaning his heavy weight on her, nuzzling her neck, whispering sweet things. It was all an act?
“Why would he fake being weak then — and fake being strong now?” she asked.
“Maybe he’s hiding how weak he really is,” Azalea said. “Eliza — I think he’s really sick. I found bloody tissues in his trash. And I saw him hooked up to a machine in his bedroom when he thought I was asleep p>
𝘙𝗲𝖼о𝗆𝗺en𝘥 𝘵𝘰 уo𝘶𝗿 𝘧𝗿іendѕ
Eliza’s heart stopped. Bloody tissues. The machine. The softness. The pallor. The “healthy” comment.
He wasn’t rejecting her because he didn’t want her. He was rejecting her because he was dying.
She stood up. “I have to go back in there p>
Inside the booth, Vinnie was whispering to Vance.
“He’s miserable,” Vinnie said. “It’s all in his head, man. He’s got a mental block about Eliza p>
“It’s not just mental, Vinnie,” Vance warned, pressing two fingers to Dallas’s wrist. His pulse was thready and fast. “His heart is barely pumping. The LVAD batteries are draining faster than they should. He needs to go home p>
“He just needs to relax,” Vinnie insisted, pulling a small amber vial from his jacket pocket. “I got this from a guy in special ops. It’s a military-grade sedative — just a drop. It’ll numb the pain, stop the adrenaline. He’ll sleep like a baby. He needs sleep, Vance p>
“Vinnie, no!” Vance hissed, grabbing his arm. “You can’t give him sedatives. He’s on cardiac medication — it could suppress his respiratory system p>
Vinnie shoved him back against the booth with a laugh. “Relax, doc! It’s just to take the edge off. Look at him, he’s in agony.” While Vance was off-balance, Vinnie quickly poured another round, slipping a drop of the amber liquid into Dallas’s glass.
“Here,” Vinnie said, sliding the glass across to Dallas just as Vance was recovering. “One for the road. To peace p>
Dallas looked at the glass. He wanted peace. He wanted to stop the pain in his chest that felt like a serrated knife.
He picked it up.
“To oblivion,” Dallas muttered.
He drank it.
Five minutes later, Dallas dropped his glass. It shattered on the floor.
He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning blue.
“Boss?” Simmons stepped forward from the shadows.
“My chest—” Dallas gasped.
It wasn’t relief. It was suffocation. The sedative had interacted with his failing system, dropping his blood pressure to critical levels in an instant. The LVAD hummed loudly, struggling to compensate for the sudden loss of vascular resistance.
His heart began to fibrillate.
“Dallas!” Vinnie laughed nervously. “Is it kicking in p>
Dallas fell out of the booth. He hit the floor hard, curling into himself. He clawed at his shirt, ripping the buttons open.
“Help,” he wheezed.