Caroline's POV.

Real parents? I didn't even know how could he possibly knew. This person was really strange. It was annoying to put up a pose of carrying out orders when it was obvious that he was needing my help. I didn't want to deal with such a boring person.

I took off my high heels and put them away, then took out my pajamas and prepared to clean up and have a good night's sleep. The prince was just a paper tiger, not a threat.

Although the heart thought so, but looked at the carpet was constantly dipped into dark red, his indifferent face without a trace of blood, I still have a soft heart, after all, in case he really died because of blood loss in my room, I would certainly be killed, and may even start a war, when the fight did not know how many pups like me would lose their parents.

It was too late to think about how he was injured, I stuffed the pajamas back into the closet, find the medicine cabinet, I turned him over to sit against the wall, a neat suit had already been covered with blood, but his hand was tightly covered with an object. It took some effort to break his hand away, and only then did I saw the original appearance of the thing - a tube of injections. So covered, could not be very precious? And also he carried it with him.

I peeled off his jacket and found that the shirt was already stuck to the wound along with the gauze, strange, didn't all werewolves have the ability to heal themselves. Although I had fallen quite a few times to practice motorcycling, I had suffered many injuries, but each time I recovered quickly, and rarely had the opportunity to call a pack doctor, his injury was so serious that it could not be healed, the medicine box should not work, it seemed that it was necessary to trouble Virgil to make a trip.

I cut open his dirty shirt along the wound, and saw the exposed fist-like bulge of a block of muscle, beautiful lines, so that people could not help but want to touch it to try to feel. I was so shocked by this thought that I stopped looking at the itchy muscles and focused on the wound. Gently tore open the part of the already sticky, and I suddenly heard a muffled grunt, which startled me.

It seemed to be waking up in pain, which was well deserved.

"Injection" he swiveled his still moving eyes to scan around once, and spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse and dry, the uninjured hand spread out, was the tube of medicine just now.

I didn't bother with him, speeding up the action of cleaning and dressing the wound in my hands, ignoring his frown, tying a bow and going to the toilet to clean up the blood on my hands, changing into my cycling clothes by the way.

Seeing that I had no intention of helping him, he spoke again, "I don't have the strength."

Looking at him with his face away and a squirming look made me feel good and funny.

He was obviously weak to the point of having no strength, and he had to put on the air of a nobleman, why bother?

I took the thing called painkiller from his hand, turned it over and over, pulled off the cap to reveal the needle, and after a long hesitation, I had no choice but to say, "I don't know how to inject."

"Stick it in my forearm."

"Then I just stick it in, I'm not responsible if it kills you." I squeezed the needle tightly, gestured a few times at his thick little arm, chose a good position and closed my eyes and stabbed it in.

"Clothes." For the sake of his injury not to bother with his commanding tone that made people feel uncomfortable, found a wide sweatshirt for him to put on.

I wore big clothes he wore tight, but also strangled the muscle lines, I could not help but laugh out loud, he heard my laughter embarrassed cough twice.

Soon, the night grew darker outside the window. In order to avoid the awkward atmosphere of a strange man and woman in the same room, I picked up the car keys and helmet to flip out of the window, but he suddenly said: "You usually go out like this?"

I stopped moving and rode on the window, and asked him in return without good grace, "Don't you think this method is safer for you in your current state?"

"Where are you going?"

"To find a pack doctor, how long will that little painkiller last? I don't want you to die in my room." I jumped after that, and after a moment of thought I climbed back in, "Are you coming with me, or staying here until I bring the doctor back?"

He looked at his clothes and was silent. Probably he didn't want this look to be seen by others, but that serious injury, he went to the hospital personally would be better. There was no advanced medical equipment in my small room.

"I'll leave if you don't talk." I deliberately jumped without waiting for his answer, because I knew that he would certainly follow me.

"Come and help me."

Sure enough, I knew that no one in this world was not afraid to die unless there was no other choice, let alone someone like him who was in a high place of power. Climbed back up to the window and with a little effort threw him out of the window and then got him on my motorcycle.

I have to say, he was really heavy, almost as heavy as my Harley motorcycle. After making sure he wouldn't fall off during the drive I got on my motorcycle, turned on my phone, connected my Bluetooth, put on my earphones and dialed Virgil's number.

Sylvester's POV.

The nerves of pain stimulated my brain and forced me to wake up. After opening my eyes, I started to look around out of instinct: a woman's bedroom, obviously unpacked, and after making sure there was no one else but the stupid woman in front of me, I put my mind at ease and had to hurry up and inject the painkiller. After seeing the potion in my hand, I was relieved to see that it hadn't been shattered.

I spread my hand and gestured with my eyes for her to inject me, the pain made me lose control of my strength. Seeing that she was slow to do it, she just focused on bandaging. Humph, she had a conscience. Not being able to wait any longer, I had to speak up and say, "Inject."

God, the hell knew how much effort it took me to say two words, but the woman in front of me was only focused on bandaging, not listening to me at all, although the action was fast and skilled, but did she not know how much pain I was in? Looking at her leaving figure I really wanted to go up and grab her, but I simply did not have the strength to move now.

I saw her come out of the room and change into her riding clothes. Where was she going? She wasn't really going to leave me here? I was a little chagrined, how I chose such an unreliable person as a partner, no, I could not die here, I had no choice but to speak out my current dilemma, "I have no strength."

After saying that I looked away from her mocking expression, which must have been to the extent that it would have made the wounds crack again.

"I do not know how to inject."

This woman actually popped out such a stupid phrase that I couldn't have imagined, making me wonder how she's managed to survive this long.

"Stick it in my forearm." Out of the need to stay alive, I still patiently explained.

"Then I just stick it in, I'm not responsible if it kills you."

I was really going to die if she didn't stick it, I swore in my heart and didn't say anything. After the injection was finished and the pain eased for a while, I realized that the clothes on my body had disappeared, this woman was still thirsty, not even the patient was spared.

"Clothes."

She rummaged through the closet, threw a sweatshirt that I couldn't wear at first glance in front of me, and after doing a battle of ideas for a while, I lost the battle, not wearing clothes for the cold would aggravate the condition, and for the time being, let's put it aside.

Sure enough, the clothes were ill-fitting, strained me very uncomfortable, the most hateful thing was that the culprit was actually snickering and dared to laugh out loud, this stupid woman better pray that I was okay, otherwise be prepared to bear my anger.

When I saw her preparing to go out through the window, I couldn't help but ask, " You usually go out like this?" It was too much like a thief.

But she asked me in return, "Don't you think this method is safer for you in your current state?"

After thinking about it indeed, going out like this could reduce a lot of unnecessary troubles.

"Where are you going?"

"To find a pack doctor, how long can that little painkiller last? I don't want you to die in my room."

I almost thought she was really going to leave me here. I didn't want to taste that feeling of abandonment a second time in my life.

Seeing her go down and come back up, she asked, "Are you coming with me, or are you staying here until I bring the doctor back?"

"I'll leave if you don't talk." This woman added another sentence, wanted to save me was false, with the provocation to see me embarrassed people was her real purpose.

Looked at the taut clothes, and I did a thought struggle, forget it, alive was more important, "Come and help me."

The next second, I regretted saying this sentence, the so-called help, but was dragged me and then thrown from the window. Fortunately, the painkillers have been administered, otherwise I would have to give up my life here.

I would like to give this woman another note.

Finally, we got into the car and I heard her on the phone, I was immediately alert again, in case she exposed my identity and whereabouts, if I was caught by Mark's people, it would not be worth it.

She hung up the phone without saying a few words, but I kept my spirits high for a quick getaway in case of an ambush.

The cold breeze of the spring night with some coolness blew the hair of the woman in front of me, who had pulled away some distance, against my cheek with a jasmine fragrance that I had once smelled on her.

It was the first time I got into a car that I didn't know the destination of, all my hopes were desperate and pressed on this woman, and I didn't know why I had chosen her, just the first time I saw her, I felt that I could trust her, it was strange.

I wasn't sure if the doctor she found was as unreliable as she was

Ten minutes later, not very long, the hospital was already close. There were not many people at night, the werewolves originally had the ability to heal themselves, as long as it was not a birth, a silver weapon injury, or any difficult disease, no one would come to the hospital.

From a distance, I saw a man in a white coat standing in front of the hospital, his brown hair neatly combed and wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

The motorcycle stopped in front of him, it seemed, this was the one on the phone.