Finally, the door opens.
Dr. Kit Wyatt walks out. She looks so tired. “You can come back now,” she says. “But keep it quiet. She’s... fragile.”
We stand up and file down the hallway.
Exam room two is small. Saramaria is sitting on the exam table, her feet dangling over the edge. She’s wearing a hospital gown. Her face is pale, but there’s a flush to her cheeks that has nothing to do with fever.
She looks up when we walk in.
“We got your message,” I say. I stop a few feet away, giving her space.
She clutches the paper covering her legs. “I missed the shot,” she whispers. “I forgot. I just... I forgot.”
“It happens,” Rhett says gently. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Dr. Wyatt leans against the counter. “She’s already showing early signs of the pre-heat phase. Her temperature is elevated. Her scent markers are changing.”
“Can you give her a shot now?” I ask. “Can you stop it?”
Dr. Wyatt shakes her head. “Usually, yes. But she’s too far along. The hormonal cascade has already started. Injecting suppressants now would be like trying to stop a mudslide with a shovel. It could make her very sick. It could cause a hormone crash that would last for weeks.”
“So what do we do?” Knox asks.
“We manage the symptoms,” Dr. Wyatt says. “We make her comfortable. But ultimately... you have to let the cycle run its course.”
“Run its course,” I repeat. “You mean... she goes into heat. Full heat.”
“Yes,” Dr. Wyatt says. “It won’t be pleasant. She’ll have cramps, mood swings. The fever. And the urges.” She looks at me, then at Knox and Rhett. “She’s going to need to be isolated. She’s going to need a safe place to ride it out.”
“She has the ranch,” I say.
“Is it safe?” Dr. Wyatt asks. “Is she isolated? Are there other Alphas around?”
“We are,” Rhett says. “But we can control the perimeter. We can keep the ranch locked down. No visitors.”
“That might work,” Dr. Wyatt says. “But be careful. When an Omega is in heat, their instincts take over. They become... reactive. She might not be herself. She might be aggressive. Or she might be... compliant. You need to be prepared for either.”
She looks at Saramaria. “You have a choice, Saramaria. You can stay here, in the clinic, under observation. Or you can gohome with your pack. But if you go home, make sure they know what they are signing up for.”
Saramaria looks at us. At me. At Knox. At Rhett.
She looks tired. She looks scared.
“I want to go home,” she says. “I don’t want to be here.”
Dr. Wyatt nods. “Then take her home. Keep her warm. Keep her hydrated. Let her rest.”
“Can I have a word with them?” Saramaria asks.
Dr. Wyatt looks at us, then at Saramaria. “Five minutes. Then she needs to rest.”
Dr. Wyatt leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
The silence in the small room is heavy. Saramaria looks down at her hands.
“I’m scared,” she admits. Her voice cracks. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I feel like I’m losing control of my own mind.”
“We won’t let that happen,” I say.
