Bound To The Alpha She Left

Chapter 9

Elena’s POV.

When I woke the next morning in the sprawling, overly lavish master suite, the taxing weight of the previous night still lingered over me. I pushed myself up from the silk sheets, half-expecting Raymond to be looming nearby, but the room was empty.

A soft knock at the door preceded the arrival of Mr. Gable, the estate’s head butler. He entered carrying a silver tray, setting down a steaming cup of Earl Grey—steeped exactly the way I preferred—alongside a set of brass-ringed keys and a sealed, official leather-bound folder.

“Good morning, Doctor Elena,” Gable greeted, bowing his head with a level of profound, genuine respect that made my stomach twist. “Alpha Raymond requested I deliver these to you personally before your departure to the hospital.”

I picked up the folder, breaking the wax seal. Inside was an executive decree signed in bold, black ink by Raymond. Overnight, he had stripped Dr. Vance of his executive privileges, effective immediately. Every branch of the Moon Pack Central Hospital, its administration, and its chief medical directives were now legally transferred solely to me.

“Is… is Lady Biana present?” I asked carefully, setting the document down. I hadn’t forgotten her warning from last night. Nor did I doubt she’d throw another fit the moment she discovered Raymond had actually pulled through with this stunt.

“Lady Biana departed early this morning for her scheduled salon appointments in the upper quarter, Doctor,” Gable replied, taking a step back. “She is not expected to return until late evening.”

A silent sigh of relief escaped me. Dealing with Biana’s hostility on top of everything else was a headache I was glad to avoid.

By the time I walked through the glass doors of Moon Pack Central Hospital, the aftershocks of the banquet were already sweeping through the marble corridors.

Dr. Vance was standing near the central lobby nurses’ station, his face mottled with rage as he attempted to rally a small group of senior physicians for a passive-aggressive protest.

“This is an outrage!” Vance was sneering, slamming a clip-board down. “A rogue healer walking in and usurping—”

“Doctor Vance,” a young female resident interrupted sharply, swooping forward with a stack of patient files. “Doctor Elena’s authority was established by the High Council and signed by Alpha Raymond himself. If you refuse to clear the executive desk, security has been instructed to escort you off the premises.”

Vance’s mouth snapped shut. He looked around for support, but the rest of the medical staff openly defied him, turning their backs to line up near the main foyer, eagerly awaiting my direction.

Without missing a beat, I headed into the center of the room, ignoring Vance’s resentful glare directed at me. “Shift assignments are being restructured immediately,” I announced. “Emergency triage takes priority, and Vance’s outdated diagnostic protocols are officially retired. We have a high-risk cardiovascular procedure in OR 3 in twenty minutes. Who is assisting me?”

Three ambitious young healers practically trampled over each other to volunteer. Within two hours, I had guided them through a flawless, complex surgery, reforming the hospital’s operations faster than Vance had in years.

Standing in my newly minted executive office, wiping down my hands, the reality of what had happened finally hit me.

Raymond hadn’t just given me a title; he had handed me complete control over the entire medical system on a silver platter.

A bitter part of me relished seeing Vance and his cronies choke on their own arrogance. But a split second later, a hot, searing wave of fury spiked through my veins.

How dare he?

I slammed my chart down onto the desk. I didn’t need Raymond playing the chivalrous knight, clearing obstacles out of my way as if I couldn’t navigate pack affairs myself. I was one of the most skilled medical minds in the region. I could have earned this position, overthrown Vance, and claimed my authority entirely on my own merit without his Alpha dominance backing me into a corner.

I was no helpless damsel in distress waiting to be rescued.

“You look like you’re about to tear someone’s throat out,” a silky, deep voice purred from the doorway.

I snapped my head up. Raymond stood framed in the doorway, dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the strong muscles of his forearms. His broad shoulders filled the frame, and in his hand, he held a brown paper bag stamped with a familiar, ornate logo.

“This is a private executive office, Alpha Raymond,” I spoke coldly, crossing my arms. “I am in the middle of reviewing shift rotations.”

“Official pack health check-in,” he countered, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a notable click. He walked over, setting the bag down on my desk. The rich, savory aroma of toasted ciabatta, roasted basil, and garlic drifted out—my absolute favorite lunch from a small human-world café I used to frequent.

My stomach gave an embarrassing, betrayal of a rumble.

Raymond chuckled softly, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. He crossed one long leg over the other, leaning back, seemingly unbothered by the icy glare I was directing at him.

“Eat, Elena. You’ve been in surgery for three hours.”

“What are you doing, Raymond?” I demanded, ignoring the food. “What is your end goal here?”

Raymond paused for a moment. His espresso-brown eyes locked onto mine, the playful humor melting away, replaced by an intensity so raw and commanding it made my heartrate spike. He leaned forward across the desk, closing the distance between us until I could smell the heavy, addictive scent of cedar and amber radiating from his skin.

“I told you that I would give you the world if you asked for it,” Raymond murmured, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rumble that vibrated through my skin. “You thought leaving meant those promises expired. They didn’t. Every single word I gave you back then still stands today.”

My breath caught in my throat as his words hung in the silence between us. For a flicker of a moment, I almost lifted my hand and reached for him. Almost.

That motion would have unravelled everything I had worked for.

It was also wrong.

Before I could form a coherent, defensive response, the sudden, shrill ring of my desk phone shattered the tense atmosphere.

I tore my gaze away from Raymond, snatching up the receiver. “Doctor Elena.”

“Doctor! We have a critical situation,” the head lab technician’s voice panicked over the line. “There was a shipment of specialized medical supplies bound directly for our hospital. It was intercepted at the eastern border checkpoint. Preliminary testing picked up a rare, highly volatile neurotoxin laced throughout the IV fluids!”

Disgust and horror flooded through me. “A toxin? Laced in hospital supplies intended for pack patients?”

“Yes, Doctor! If those fluids had reached the wards—”

“Quarantine the entire transport immediately!” I ordered, slamming the phone back onto its cradle.

Raymond was on his feet in an instant, his posture shifting from relaxed to lethal Alpha in a fraction of a second. “What happened?”

“Someone just attempted to contaminate a massive shipment of medical supplies meant for this hospital with a rare neurotoxin,” I explained, my voice trembling with fury and disgust as I looked up at him.

Raymond’s brow furrowed into a deep scowl, his inner wolf flaring so dangerously beneath his skin that my own wolf stirred in answer. “Sabotaging a medical supply line?” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “Who would dare pull a stunt like that? And why target this hospital?”