CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Quil wasn't sure if he was losing his sense of dignity, or if he was simply giving in to something deeper—something that made him feel powerless as he climbed into the car with Alice.

The entire ride was suffocating, the air thick with silence, and an overwhelming sense of discomfort settled between them. The tension in the vehicle felt almost tangible, and Quil found himself constantly aware of Alice's every movement.

He didn't know why, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him as they sped toward the hospital. Alice was driving faster than necessary, and Quil wordlessly thanked her for it. He appreciated the speed, though not in the way one might expect—it was less about efficiency and more about how much it helped him keep his mind off the fear that constantly hovered, waiting for the moment when he would lose control of his shifting.

Over the past half-year, Quil had wrestled with his own mental and physical stability. He had trusted himself, but there was a lingering insecurity that burned deep within him.

A part of him doubted that he could truly be in control all the time, that one small mistake or moment of weakness could cause everything to unravel. The idea of losing control was terrifying to him, a trauma that he couldn't shake off. No matter how much he tried to push it aside, it was always there, hovering beneath the surface, just out of reach.

Quil leaned back in the seat, trying to push the thought of phasing out of his mind. As the car sped along the road, his thoughts began to blur into a fog of uncertainty, and before he knew it, Alice had interrupted his daze.

"Quil," she said, her voice breaking through his haze, and Quil was momentarily jolted out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized they had arrived at the hospital. The sound of Alice's irritated huff made him suspect she had been calling his name for some time, and he quickly apologized, embarrassment creeping up his neck as he scrambled to get out of her car.

"Carlisle will meet you at the front desk," Alice added, her tone softer now that the task had been completed. She gave him a brief nod before driving off, leaving him standing alone in the drop-off area. Quil let out a deep sigh, the tension in his chest easing slightly. At least he wasn't around a Cold One anymore—well, one that could pose an immediate threat. For now, he was safe, and he took a moment to collect himself before heading inside.

His mind wasn't prepared for whatever or whoever he was about to face. The idea that he might have some sort of connection to a patient in the hospital was unsettling. What if it was all a trick? What if this was some elaborate scheme to lure him in, to get him to do something that would put the pack in danger? These thoughts plagued him as he slowly walked through the hospital entrance, each step heavy with uncertainty.

Quil couldn't help but feel conflicted. Despite the Cullens being his natural enemies—at least as far as their existence was concerned—he wasn't as hostile toward them as he probably should be. He had been raised with the stories, with the deep-rooted distrust of the vampires that had terrorized their people for generations. But maybe, just maybe, his view had been swayed. Zahra's influence was still fresh in his mind, and somehow, the pack's relationship with the Cullens wasn't as cut-and-dry as it used to be. The wolf in him didn't fully trust them, but the man had come to realize that there were more layers to the situation than simple enmity.

Quil's eyes scanned the hospital's interior as he made his way deeper into the building. He didn't have to look far before he spotted Carlisle standing at the front desk, speaking to a nurse. Quil paused at a distance, respectfully waiting for the older Cullen to finish his conversation. The fact that Carlisle was on call didn't go unnoticed, and Quil chose to be patient, even if the anxiety swirling in his stomach made it difficult to stand still.

Carlisle's gaze flicked to Quil, and he offered a small but warm smile. After a brief exchange with the nurse, the Cullen patriarch excused himself and walked over to Quil. "Thank you for coming," he said, his tone calm and professional, but there was a slight warmth to his words that made Quil feel a little less on edge.

Quil cleared his throat awkwardly, his discomfort palpable. He wasn't used to talking to vampires in such a casual manner. "I admit I did have some doubt about the situation," he said, his voice quieter than usual. The words felt strange coming from him as if he were trying to talk himself into trusting Carlisle, but the scepticism still lingered.

Carlisle nodded, his expression understanding. "It's understandable," he replied, his voice kind but firm. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing for Quil to follow him.

Quil didn't say anything as he nodded and fell into step behind Carlisle, but his mind was still racing. What was all of this about? Why had Alice felt the need to bring him here? And what was the connection between him and this unknown patient?

They walked together and all was quiet except for the faint hum of the hospital ambience. The tension that had been growing in Quil's chest remained, but he did his best to push it down. Carlisle, seeming to sense Quil's unease, chose that moment to fill the silence.

"The patient does not have an identification and was admitted a few months ago," he began, his tone low, as though trying to explain as much as he could without overwhelming Quil.

Quil looked at Carlisle, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Do you really think I might have a connection with her?" he asked, his voice laced with scepticism. The idea seemed absurd to him—how could he possibly be connected to someone who was practically a stranger?

Carlisle sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair as he considered the question. "To be honest, Edward hearing her thoughts is the only reason I can say it's possible. However, we won't know for sure unless you can confirm it yourself."

Quil's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why can't she confirm it herself?" he asked, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. His mind was struggling to make sense of it all, the pieces of the puzzle refusing to come together.

Carlisle's expression grew slightly more serious. "Alice didn't tell you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Quil shook his head, growing more frustrated with the lack of clear answers. "Tell me what?"

Carlisle let out a breath, his eyes flickering with a mix of sympathy and regret. "Well, the patient has been in a coma ever since she was admitted," he explained quietly.

Quil's stomach dropped as the weight of Carlisle's words sank in. A patient in a coma? How could someone in such a state be calling for him? The questions continued to swirl in his mind, but for now, all he could do was follow Carlisle to wherever this strange, unsettling path led him.