Chapter Six
697 Words
Karma POV
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The doctor’s smile was professional, practiced, and completely unconvincing.
“You’re medically cleared,” he said, tapping the chart. “But that doesn’t mean you’re well.”
Karma swung her legs off the hospital bed slowly, testing her balance. The room didn’t spin—good. Her head still felt tight, like a band wrapped too snug around her skull, but she ignored it.
“I don’t plan on staying,” she said.
“I wouldn’t recommend being alone,” the doctor replied. “Your collapse wasn’t random. Severe exhaustion, sensory overload, stress-induced shock. Whatever you’ve been suppressing, your body reached its limit.”
Suppressing.
The word scraped against her nerves.
“I’ll manage,” she said flatly.
The doctor sighed, glancing toward the doorway. “Normally, I’d insist on observation. In your case… the Alpha has assumed responsibility.”
Her stomach dropped.
“The Alpha?” she asked.
As if summoned, Xavier stepped into the room, dark presence filling the space without effort. He nodded once to the doctor.
“She’ll be under my supervision,” he said. “She won’t be alone.”
Karma stiffened. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“You agreed to being discharged,” the doctor replied gently. “This is the condition.”
She looked between them, irritation flaring. “I’m not a problem to be managed.”
“No,” Xavier said calmly. “You’re a risk.”
That shut her up.
Minutes later, she found herself outside, pack air cool against her skin, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been indoors until the forest scent hit her all at once.
Her head pulsed faintly.
“Truck’s this way,” Xavier said.
She followed because, for once, fighting felt pointless.
The packhouse emerged from the trees like something carved from the forest itself—a massive log structure built wide and tall, timber darkened with age. It wasn’t a house so much as a fortress softened by design. Wraparound porches, stone chimney, wide windows glowing faintly with light.
A log cabin mansion.
Her chest tightened.
Inside, warmth wrapped around her instantly. The interior was open and high-ceilinged, heavy beams overhead, stone and wood everywhere. The colors caught her attention immediately—deep black, rich red, and flashes of silver woven through banners, furniture accents, and metalwork.
Alpha colors.
They were everywhere.
Her headache sharpened slightly, pressure blooming behind her eyes.
She slowed, hand brushing the back of a chair as if grounding herself. The space felt… aware. Not hostile. Not welcoming.
Present.
“You’ll be staying in the east wing,” Xavier said. “Guest quarters. Close to mine.”
Her head snapped up. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s not negotiable.”
She laughed humorlessly. “You really enjoy telling people what to do.”
“I enjoy keeping them alive,” he replied. “Your doctor was clear—you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ve been alone for years.”
“And it almost killed you.”
Silence stretched between them.
A pack member passed through the space, nodding respectfully to Xavier before glancing at Karma with open curiosity. She felt it then—the weight of being seen. Assessed.
Catalogued.
Her skin prickled.
“I won’t be staying long,” she said, quieter now.
“I’m aware,” Xavier replied. “This is temporary.”
She didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her, measuring not desire—but something deeper. Concern sharpened by restraint.
He led her down a corridor, footsteps echoing softly against polished wood. When they stopped outside a door, he turned to face her.
“Rest,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
“About what?”
“About why your body reacted to this place the way it did.”
Her jaw tightened. “You’re assuming a lot.”
“I’m observing,” he corrected.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Alone—but not really.
She pressed her palm against her temple as the pressure pulsed again, stronger now that she was inside the packhouse.
Whatever she was fighting?
It didn’t like being ignored.
- Writer
