Chasing Back The Alpha's Doctor Luna

Chapter 4 - The New Dawn

FIVE YEARS LATER

The harsh white lights above me buzz faintly, mixing with the beeping of machines and the muffled rustle of sterile gloves. The air is sharp with the scent of antiseptic, the kind of smell that clings to your skin long after you leave the operating room. My eyes are locked on the deep crimson wound beneath the bright overhead lamp. A young girl lies on the table, barely breathing when she was wheeled in, the aftermath of a rogue attack. The gash on her side bleeds slow but deep. I don’t flinch.

“Clamp,” I say, my voice steady, cutting through the tension hanging in the air like a blade.

The nurse hands it over, quick and quiet. I press the clamp to stop the bleeding, my fingers sure, trained. Sweat pricks at the back of my neck, but my hands don’t shake. They never do anymore.

“Pulse stable,” murmurs one of the residents beside me, her voice laced with hope.

“We’re not done yet,” I reply. “Suction.”

The team works like a well-oiled machine around me. Years ago, I was the outsider, the one barely holding it together. Now, I’m the one they follow.

Thirty-eight minutes later, I tie the last stitch with precision. A deep breath escapes me as I step back. “It’s done. She’ll make it.”

A collective sigh fills the room. One of the interns quietly mutters, “Damn, that was incredible,” before someone elbows him.

I peel off my gloves, the snap echoing louder than expected, then tug down my mask. My face feels flushed, but not from exhaustion. There’s something satisfying in knowing you’ve pulled someone back from the edge.

Outside the OR, the waiting area is quiet, thick with the kind of tension only desperate parents know. A couple stands as I approach, a middle-aged man and woman, both with worn eyes and trembling hands. Their daughter was mauled while wandering too close to a rogue border. They look like they haven’t breathed in hours.

“She’s stable now,” I say gently. “The surgery went well. She’ll need rest, but she’s safe.”

The mother gasps, covering her mouth as her knees buckle slightly. The father steadies her, eyes glistening. Then he looks at me with a raw kind of gratitude that hits me square in the chest.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Thank you so much.”

She wraps her arms around me before I can react. I stiffen only for a second, then let her cry into my shoulder, patting her back gently.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I say quietly. “She’s strong. She just needed a little help.”

Once they’ve calmed, I slip away, my steps quieter as I walk down the familiar corridors of Harmony Ridge Medical Center. My reflection passes along the glass walls, white coat, loose bun, tired but proud eyes.

I didn’t always look like this.

Five years ago, I was barely hanging on. Pregnant, rejected, abandoned. But something inside me refused to break. I chose my babies, and I chose myself. And slowly—agonizingly—I rebuilt.

I returned to school, finished what I started. Studied between feedings and naps, between diapers and doctor appointments. I passed every exam. Graduated with honors. And when I needed someone to believe in me, Dr. Myers did.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it for now. I need a moment to breathe.

A few more steps and I spot him, Dr. Myers, leaning over a patient file just outside the staff lounge. He looks up as I approach, his face lighting up.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “they’re calling you a surgical goddess back there.”

I snort softly. “You’d think after years they’d get tired of exaggerating.”

“Not when it’s true,” he says, handing me a coffee he somehow always knows I need. “You good?”

I nod. “Yeah. It went better than expected.”

He studies me for a second. “You’ve come a long way, Vidya.”

“I know.” I glance down at the coffee, fingers tightening slightly. “I wouldn’t have without you.”

Dr. Myers just smiles, eyes kind. “Nah. I just held the ladder. You climbed.”

Our conversation lingers with warmth, like a fireplace on a rainy day. After a few more words, I excuse myself, telling him I need to check on something in my office.

As I walk, my eyes catch the familiar posters on the hospital walls—ones I helped design. “Rejection Recovery Wing–You Are Not Alone.” Arden isn’t like other places. It doesn’t turn away rogues. Doesn’t ignore human suffering or shame the broken. It’s the only hospital I know that treats every species, every class, every story.

A rejected omega? Welcome. A half-human hybrid? We’ll find a way. I fit right in here because I know what it means to be lost, to claw your way back.

The hallway outside my office is quiet. Peaceful.

Then I hear it.

“Mom!”

My breath catches, and I turn sharply.

Three small figures barrel toward me, tiny shoes slapping against the tile, arms wide, faces bright.

“Kai,” I gasp, catching the first into my arms. “Liam, Aria—oh my god, what are you three doing here?”

Kai hugs me tightly, burying his face in my shoulder like he’s missed me for a hundred years. Liam presses against my side, his eyes soft and steady. Aria bounces in place before wrapping her little arms around my waist.

“Uncle Darry picked us up early!” she chirps, her smile missing one of her front teeth. “He said we could surprise you!”

I look up, startled, and there he is.

Darius stands a few steps behind them, dressed down in jeans and a navy blue hoodie, hands in his pockets, watching the reunion with that lazy, amused smile of his. His eyes meet mine, and there’s something soft in them.

“I figured you’d want a good end to a hard day,” he says, stepping closer.

“Darius,” I breathe, a little overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do that. I mean, I didn’t ask…”

He raises a brow, cutting me off gently. “Vidya. Please. I live for these little squirrels.”

He crouches behind them and gathers them all into a playful group hug, ruffling Liam’s hair and kissing Kai on the cheek. Aria squeals as he lifts her into the air and twirls her once before setting her down.

“I missed you!” she giggles.

“Missed you more,” he says, poking her nose.

I watch, heart swelling so big I feel like I can’t hold it inside.

Darius, once a stranger, then a friend, and now… something more. Something I can’t name. He had been there from the moment I nearly collapsed in the rain with nothing but my swollen belly and a bleeding heart. He stayed. Through every scream, every bottle, every tiny milestone. My triplets adore him. And truth be told... I do too.

I stand, smoothing my coat. “Well, since you’re already here, wanna walk me to my office?”

“We’d be honored,” Darius says, grinning.

The kids each grab one of my hands and one of his, skipping ahead as we walk.

My gaze drifts to the large window at the end of the hall. Beyond the glass, the sky is painted in shades of soft orange and fading blue, dusk creeping over the city. I pause for a heartbeat, just to breathe it in.

My wolf has never returned. After the rejection, she vanished like mist at sunrise. I waited. Hoped. But… nothing. At first, it broke me. Then I realized something: I didn’t need her to survive.

I had found something stronger.

Love. Purpose. Peace.

As my children laugh and Darius tells them some silly joke that makes Aria cackle and Liam roll his eyes in fond embarrassment, I feel that quiet stillness settle inside me again.

This… this is everything.

And I hope- no, I pray... it stays this way.