Fern emerges from the back office with her hand flying to her mouth when she sees the amount of blood. She doesn’t freeze, though. She falls into step beside me as we follow Dylan down the hallway. Her pregnant belly makes her gait slightly uneven, but sure as hell doesn’t slow her down.
“What happened?” I ask as Dylan lowers the injured wolf onto the exam table. I recognize him now—Landon, one of James’s patrol wolves. Mid-twenties, usually quick with a joke and a smile. Right now, his face is gray, and his breathing comes in shallow gasps that tell me we don’t have much time.
“Cheslem scouts.” Dylan steps back to give me room to work, but his hands are still shaking from the adrenaline. “Four of them crossed the eastern boundary about an hour ago. Landon spotted them first and engaged before backup could arrive.”
“He took on three wolves alone?”
I pull on gloves and start cutting away Landon’s shirt to get a better look at the damage. The wound in his side is deep, a jagged tear that runs from his ribs almost to his hip. A glint of exposed muscle shows beneath the torn flesh. Claw marks, not bites. Someone wanted him to bleed out slowly.
“He didn’t have a choice. They were heading toward town.” Dylan runs a hand through his hair and leaves a streak of Landon’s blood across his forehead. “By the time Sera and I got there, he’d already taken down two of them. The other two ran before we could catch them.”
“Fern, I need the suture kit and antiseptic. Sera, keep pressure on that wound while I check for internal damage.”
They move without question, and the familiar rhythm of emergency medicine settles over me like armor. This is what I’m good at. This is where I belong. Not standing in a moonlit clearing making vows I never wanted to make, or lying awake in a bed that smells like a man I’m supposed to hate. Here, in this room, with a patient who needs me, I know exactly who I am and what I’m supposed to do.
Landon groans when I probe the edges of the wound, and his entire body tenses against the pain. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I know it hurts. I need to see how deep this goes.”
“How bad?” Dylan asks from somewhere behind me.
“The claws missed his kidney by about an inch, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” I grab the antiseptic Fern hands me and start cleaning the wound, working quickly but carefully to flush out any debris. Landon hisses through his teeth but doesn’t pull away. Good. He’s tougher than he looks. “He’s going to need stitches and probably a transfusion. Sera, can you check the blood bank? We should have his type on file.”
“On it.” Sera squeezes Landon’s hand once before disappearing through the door.
The next several minutes pass in a flurry of gauze and sutures. I work steadily with my hands, never wavering even when Landon’s vital signs dip low enough to make my stomach clench. Fern anticipates my needs before I voice them, handing me instruments and adjusting monitors without being asked. We’ve done this dance a hundred times before, and the familiarity is grounding in a way I desperately need right now.
“You’re doing great,” I tell Landon as I tie off another suture. “Just a few more minutes, and we’ll have you patched up.”
He manages a weak smile. “Bet you say that to all the wolves who show up bleeding on your table.”
“Only the ones who are stupid enough to take on four Cheslem scouts by themselves.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches. This is why I do this job. Not for the blood or the pressure or the constant fear of losing someone on my table. For the moments of connection, the small victories, and the knowledge that I’ve made a difference in someone’s life.
I’m tying off the last suture when I feel it. A prickle at the back of my neck. A pull in my chest that makes my breath hitch.
Bryan.
I don’t turn around. I don’t need to. The mate bond tells me exactly where he is: standing in the doorway, watching me work with those gray eyes that see too much and give away too little.
“Almost done here,” I say to no one in particular. “Fern, can you set up the transfusion? Sera should be back any minute with the blood.”
Fern rushes to the cabinet where we keep the IV supplies and casts a quick glance toward the door as she passes. Her eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn’t comment.
I finish bandaging Landon’s wound and check his vitals one more time. His color is better now, less gray and more like his normal tan. His breathing has evened out, and the monitor shows his heart rate stabilizing. He’ll be sore for a few days, but he’ll live. That’s what matters.
Only then do I allow myself to look toward the door.
Bryan is exactly where I knew he’d be with his shoulder against the frame and his arms crossed over his chest. He’s positioned himself like a guard, blocking the only exit while his gaze sweeps the room in a constant pattern. Something about his posture tells me he’s been standing there for a while, watching me work without announcing his presence.
“What are you doing here?” I strip off my bloody gloves and toss them in the biohazard bin.
“I felt you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Through the bond. Your fear spiked about twenty minutes ago. I came to make sure you were okay.”
