"On ananimal," Nadine corrected, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. She turned to Ruka, examining him the way one might assess roadkill. "These creatures have their own healers, their own primitive methods. They don't belong in a human hospital, taking up beds that actual patients need."
Ruka's expression remained carved from granite, but I caught the infinitesimal tightening of his jaw, the way his hand shifted closer to Ardin—shielding.
Fury detonated in my chest, white-hot and righteous.
"Actual patients?" I moved between Nadine and the bed, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "He's a six-year-old boy who was dying. That makes him an actual patient. That makes him someone who deserves our care."
Nadine's eyes became chips of ice. "Watch your tone, Jordan."
"No." The word cracked through the room like a whip. "You watch yours. The Hippocratic Oath doesn't include a species exemption clause. We treat everyone who comes through those doors. That's not a suggestion—it's the foundation of what we do as physicians."
"The foundation," Nadine said, her voice dropping to something dangerous and quiet, "is what I say it is. And I say we don't have the resources to waste on—"
"A child?" I interrupted, crossing my arms and holding her gaze. "Since when is saving a child's life considered waste?"
"That's not the point."
"Then enlighten me," I challenged. "What is the point? That he's different? That his skin is green instead of pink? That he's not human enough to warrant basic decency?"
Nadine's face flushed crimson. "How dare you—"
"How dareyou," I fired back. "You took an oath. The same one I did. First, do no harm. Treat the sick. Heal the wounded. You don't get to cherry-pick which lives matter based on—"
"Enough!" The word exploded from her like a thunderclap. "You're done, Jordan. Go home. This is the last night of your seven-day rotation, and if I have anything to say about it—and I do—it might be your last night at this hospital, period."
The threat hung between us, toxic and unmistakable.
My pulse hammered in my ears. Every muscle in my body screamed to keep fighting, to unleash the full force of everything I thought about her bigotry, her cruelty, her complete abandonment of everything medicine was supposed to stand for. But exhaustion crashed over me like a wave—bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that made my hands tremble and my vision blur at the edges.
What was the point? People like Nadine were fortresses, impenetrable and cold. You didn't change their minds. You just bloodied yourself against their walls.
"Fine." The word tasted like ash. I turned to Ruka, whose amber eyes had been tracking our exchange with the stillness of a predator assessing a threat. "The antibiotics need another twenty minutes. After that, he'll need the full course of oral medication I prescribed. Pick it up from the pharmacy downstairs. And watch for infection. Fever, redness spreadingfrom the wound, increased pain. Any of those, you bring him back immediately."
"They're not coming back." Nadine's voice could have cut glass. "I want them out. Not in twenty minutes. Not in ten.Now."
"He needs to finish—"
"Now, Jordan. Or I'm calling security to remove them myself."
Ruka's gaze locked with mine. The moment stretched, taut as a wire. Then something shifted in those inhuman eyes—a flicker of understanding, maybe even gratitude, though his expression remained carved from stone. He gave me the barest nod.
My hands moved on autopilot, muscle memory taking over where my mind had gone numb. I approached Ardin's bedside, my touch feather-light as I removed the IV from his thin arm. The boy made a small sound of distress that pierced straight through my chest. I pressed cotton to the puncture site, my fingers steady even as my heart cracked.
"I'm sorry." The words came out barely above a whisper. I looked from Ardin's pale green face to Ruka's towering form. "I'm so, so sorry."
Ruka's massive shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. "Thank you," he rumbled, each syllable deliberate and weighted with meaning. "For Ardin."
I forced my lips into something that might have resembled a smile. "Just doing my job."
Ruka moved with the kind of grace that defied physics—all that muscle and mass flowing like water as he gathered Ardin into his arms. The boy disappeared against his chest, one small hand instinctively clutching at his shirt even in sleep. Ruka's lips moved, forming words in a language that sounded likedistant thunder rolling through mountain valleys, each syllable a lullaby.
He rose to his full, staggering height, and the fluorescent lights seemed to dim in deference. When he turned to face Nadine, there was no anger in his expression, no resentment—just an unshakeable calm that made her hateful fury look small and petty by comparison. He didn't rush. Didn't cower. He simplywas, holding the boy with the tenderness of someone who understood exactly what mattered.
Then his hand moved to the leather pouch at his belt.
The gold nugget hit the exam table with a sound like a judge's gavel—final, irrevocable. It sat there gleaming under the harsh lights, rough-hewn and beautiful, probably worth more than I made in six months.
Nadine's jaw went slack. Her eyes turned into dollar signs.
