Chapter 9
SABRINA
Marshall’s massive body hung limp in Logan’s arms as he kicked open the clinic door.My heart lurched at the sight.Marshall’s skin had turned ashen, his breathing so shallow I could barely detect it.His normally ruddy sun-kissed complexion was now pale as winter moonlight.The sour scent of sickness rolled off him in waves.
“Get him on the table,” I commanded, sweeping my arm across the exam surface to clear it.Supplies clattered to the floor.“What happened?”
Logan laid Marshall down with surprising gentleness.“Found him collapsed in his barn.Temperature is through the roof.”
“Stubborn old wolf.”Despite my protests that he stay at the clinic for further observation, Marshall insisted on going back to his ranch.Said his animals needed him.Now, he was paying the price.I pressed my stethoscope to Marshall’s chest, wincing at the erratic, racing heartbeat.“Fever’s at 105.”
My hands moved steadily, but inside, panic clawed at my chest.I’d treated shifter illnesses before, but never one this advanced, never one where failure meant losing not just a patient but someone who had become my friend.The voice of my old medical school professor echoed in my head: “You’re smart, Wu, but are you tough enough?”
I yanked open the medication cabinet, hands moving on autopilot as I grabbed what I needed.“Logan, get me the blue bottle on the top shelf.”
Logan moved with silent efficiency, his usual growl replaced by tense concentration.When he handed me the vial, his fingers brushed mine, and I felt something I’d never detected from him before, a tremor.The unshakeable alpha was scared.
I’d smelled fear on countless patients, but on Logan?It felt wrong, like watching a mountain crumble.
He trusts me with this, I realized.He’s letting me see him afraid.
That fear sparked something fierce inside me.I wouldn’t let him down.Wouldn’t let Marshall down.
Marshall’s eyes flickered open, clouded with pain.“Doc…?”The word barely escaped as a rasp.
I squeezed his hand, forcing a smile.“You’re not dying on my watch, Boone.Don’t give up on us now.”
My fingers moved with practiced precision while my mind raced through every case study, every lecture, every desperate midnight remedy I’d ever encountered.The silver nitrate solution shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights as I measured the precise dosage, knowing the line between cure and poison was razor thin.Too much would send Marshall into immediate organ failure.Too little would leave the heavy metals free to continue ravaging his system.
Logan hovered at my elbow, his body radiating heat I could feel without touching him.His breath came in controlled, even measures.Every muscle in his powerful frame coiled tight, ready to act, yet he remained still, giving me space to work while staying close enough that I knew he had my back.
“His heartbeat is irregular,” I murmured, more to organize my thoughts than to inform Logan.“The poisons are affecting his cardiac rhythm.”
Juniper’s voice cut through my concentration.“Try this.”The elderly healer pressed a mortar filled with a slurry into my palm, her weathered face creased with concern.“Burdock root.Draws out poisons.”
Logan elevated Marshall’s shoulder as I administered the mixture through the IV while Juniper fed him her herbal concoction.“Stay with us, you stubborn bastard,” Logan growled.
Marshall’s lips twitched slightly, but then his body convulsed.His back arched off the table like he was being electrocuted.
“Hold him down!”I barked, reaching for an anti-seizure medication.
My pulse hammered in my ears as I checked the monitors.No change.Damn it.I reached for another vial, but Logan caught my wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his eyes finding mine.“You’ve got this.”
His faith in me steadied my hand.I nodded, adjusting the medication dosage.This time, when I administered it, Marshall’s breathing evened slightly.Not a victory yet, but a reprieve.
Hours blurred together.Logan never left my side, anticipating my needs before I could voice them, handing me instruments, wiping Marshall’s brow when my hands were busy, bringing me water when my voice grew hoarse from murmuring encouragement to our patient.
When my confidence faltered as Marshall’s vitals dipped dangerously low, Logan’s steady presence kept me going.Each time I caught his gaze, his belief in me flowed through our bond.This was what being mated meant.It was not just protection, but unwavering support when the fight seemed impossible.
Near dawn, Marshall’s fever finally broke.I checked his vitals for the twentieth time and found them steadying.Not normal, but no longer critical.I collapsed into a chair, every muscle in my body screaming in protest.
Logan knelt in front of me, his rough hands cradling my face with a tenderness that made my chest ache.“You did it.”
“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking from exhaustion.“We did it.”
His eyes, those amber depths that had seemed so cold when we first met, now glowed with warmth.I leaned into his touch, too exhausted to speak.His thumb brushed across my cheek, and I realized it was wet.I was crying.Logan didn’t try to wipe the tears away or tell me to stop.He simply held me, letting them fall, his gaze telling me everything I needed to hear.
