Chapter 6
918 Words
Rurik’s POV
The hospital had always been a place of control.
Not because of the medicine, or the machines, or the sterile walls.
But because it was where I could ensure nothing was left to chance.
I had come here for a reason.
Not for myself.
For my son.
Izar.
The name alone carried a weight that was both power and curse.
I had watched him grow into a man who ruled with iron. A man who commanded fear without even trying. A man who had become the heir to the Volkovich legacy—a legacy built on blood, ruthlessness, and silence.
But he was not invincible.
His body was failing in a way he refused to admit.
Rotator cuff injuries were common among those who trained too hard, fought too often, and never gave their bodies time to heal.
Izar didn’t do weakness.
He did not allow pain to be spoken.
He allowed it to be endured.
And that made him dangerous.
Not to others.
To himself.
I stood in the corridor outside the patient room, watching the door carefully.
The security inside was tight—only a few trusted nurses were allowed near him.
The patient inside wasn’t just any patient.
He was the Alpha of the Moonlight Pack.
The man who had killed more enemies than I could count.
The man who would never admit to needing help.
I had heard the whispers from the nurses. The fear. The tension. The respect.
But I needed more than fear.
I needed a doctor who could treat him properly.
Someone who would not panic.
Someone who would not be intimidated.
Someone who would not run.
Someone who would stand.
That was why I had noticed Elinya Sen.
Her calmness.
Her steady hands.
Her strength disguised as gentleness.
The kind of strength that didn’t need to show itself.
A nurse approached me quietly.
“Alpha Rurik,” she whispered, “Doctor has arrived.”
I nodded.
The door opened, and Izar stepped out, moving like a shadow—smooth, controlled, and silent.
His eyes were cold as ice, but there was a flicker of pain beneath them. A pain he refused to show to anyone.
He did not look at me.
He did not acknowledge me.
As usual.
He walked past me without speaking.
I watched him with a quiet frustration.
He was stubborn. He was proud. He was… a son.
And yet, he was still my son.
I followed him into the private hallway leading to the treatment room. The air felt thick. The atmosphere tense.
Izar stopped.
His jaw tightened.
He turned toward me, his eyes narrowing.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice low and controlled.
I met his gaze without flinching.
“I want you to heal,” I replied simply.
He scoffed softly. “I don’t need your concern.”
“Not your concern,” I said, calm. “Your health.”
Izar’s expression didn’t change.
“Then leave me alone.”
His tone was cold, but I could hear the underlying pain.
I took a step closer, careful not to touch him.
Physical contact was something he hated.
He hated being close to people. He hated the idea of being vulnerable.
He hated weakness.
He hated the world.
He hated everyone.
And that included me.
“Do you know why I brought you here?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer.
“I found a doctor,” I continued, voice steady. “An orthopaedic specialist. A young woman.”
Izar’s eyes narrowed further.
“I don’t need a young woman,” he said sharply.
“I know,” I replied. “That is why I chose her.”
He stared at me as if he was trying to read my mind.
“You’re not choosing because she’s a woman,” he said. “You’re choosing because she is good.”
“Yes,” I said. “She is good.”
His gaze dropped for a moment, and I saw something in his expression that I rarely saw.
Respect.
Not love.
Not affection.
Respect.
Acknowledgement.
He hated being controlled.
He hated being ordered.
But he could not deny the truth.
He needed help.
I continued, voice steady and firm. “She is calm. She is skilled. She will not panic.”
Izar’s eyes flicked away from mine.
“What’s her name?” he asked, finally.
“Elinya Sen,” I replied.
His jaw clenched.
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he spoke in a low voice, almost like a warning.
“I don’t want her near me.”
“I am not asking you to want her,” I said. “I am asking you to let her treat you.”
Izar’s eyes flashed with anger.
“You’re forcing this,” he said.
“I am saving you,” I replied.
He stood there silently for a long time.
Then, with the cold calm he always wore like armor, he said:
“Fine.”
And with that one word, the decision was made.
Not because he trusted me.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had no other choice.
I watched him walk away.
His body looked strong.
But his spirit was broken.
He would never admit it.
He would never accept it.
But I knew.
And I was not going to let my son destroy himself.
I had brought Elinya into his world for a reason.
She was calm.
She was strong.
And she would not run.
- Writer
