Chapter 250: The Awakening

The sterile hum of medical machines filled the hospital room. Beeping monitors tracked the slow, steady rhythm of Chris Blackwood's heartbeat.

He was alive.

Barely.

But alive.

The private suite was locked down—military guards stationed outside, Secret Service patrolling every entrance, every hallway. No one was getting in unless they were authorized.

And inside, Chris lay unconscious, his body still. Pale. Weak. But not gone.

Ethan sat nearby, his gaze locked onto him. Waiting. Watching.

It had been twelve hours. Twelve hours since Chris was pulled out of emergency surgery. Twelve hours of silence, tension, and unanswered questions. The doctors were baffled—he had lost too much blood, his injuries were fatal by all accounts.

But Chris?

Chris Blackwood refused to die.

The door creaked open, and Cole stepped inside. "Still out?"

Ethan didn't move. "Yeah."

Cole studied Chris's motionless form. His usual smirk was absent. "This wasn't random," he muttered. "Whoever pulled that trigger knew exactly what they were doing. Two shots, precise, lethal. Someone high up wanted him gone."

Ethan clenched his jaw. "And they failed."

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

A sharp intake of breath.

Ethan's head snapped toward the bed.

Chris's fingers twitched. His chest rose with a deeper breath. His eyelids fluttered.

Then, with visible effort, his eyes opened.

A slow, sluggish scan of the room. His body tensed slightly—like a man waking up in enemy territory.

Then his gaze locked onto Ethan.

And despite the weakness, the blood loss, the near-death experience—

Chris Blackwood smirked.

"Missed me?" he rasped.