The Moon's Legacy

Blood and Secrets pt 2

Willow POV

Doc felt for himself and swore under his breath. “We need to clean this out now.” He glanced at the men again. “If he bites, that’s on you.”

“He won’t,” the Alpha said.

Something in his tone made even Doc pause. Absolute certainty. Absolute authority. Alpha, then.

Doc muttered, “Right,” and reached for the saline.

I worked beside him in practiced rhythm, handing over instruments, pressing clean gauze where he indicated, ignoring the blood soaking into my gloves. The wolf’s pain lashed against my senses in waves. He was conscious enough to feel every movement, weak enough not to fight, and that was somehow worse.

The men stayed still around us, coiled with helplessness. I hated helplessness.

When Doc began irrigating the leg, the wolf jerked hard enough to make the table shriek across the tile. A vicious snarl ripped from his throat, and one of the men surged forward instinctively.

“Back,” I snapped. The word cracked through the room before I could stop it.

The man halted. So did everyone else.

My own heartbeat thudded against my ribs. Too sharp. Too much. That had not sounded human. I dropped my gaze to the wound and forced my tone lighter. “Unless you want him thrashing harder, let us work.”

No one spoke. After a moment, Doc cleared his throat and kept flushing dirt and rust from the torn flesh. “She’s right.”

I exhaled slowly through my nose.

Ivy’s attention sharpened, not on the wolf this time but on the Alpha at the head of the table.

He was already looking at me. Something twisted low in my chest, strange and sudden, like a cord pulling tight beneath my ribs. My fingers flexed against the wolf’s neck. Heat spread outward from the place the sensation struck, fast and wrong and impossible.

Ivy went still. Then she whispered, 'Mine.'

The word hit with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. No.

No, no, no. Not here. Not now.

I slammed the door on Ivy so hard that she snarled in protest.

The room tilted for half a second. I locked my knees and kept my hand steady on the injured wolf.

Across the table, the Alpha’s hand clenched against the steel. His head came up sharply, eyes burning into mine. He felt it.

Damn it.

Doc didn’t notice. He was too focused on the injury. “Willow, more gauze.” I handed it over before he’d fully finished the request.

The Alpha kept staring. I could feel it like another touch along my skin. He knew.

Maybe not what I was. Maybe not yet. But he knew something had happened.

I forced myself to look at him, just once, and let coldness settle over my expression.

His jaw tightened. Good. Let him take the warning for what it was.

The wolf on the table whined again, weaker this time. The sound cut clean through the tension wrapping the room. Focus narrowed back to what mattered. I let a thread of healing slip from my hand into the battered body beneath it—careful, shallow, just enough to take the edge off the internal damage without sending a surge anyone might feel.

The wolf’s breathing eased. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to matter.

Doc leaned closer, frowning. “Huh.”

My stomach clenched.

“What?” the Alpha demanded.

“The bleeding’s slowing.” Doc sounded more puzzled than pleased. “Could be pressure finally taking. Could be luck.”

“There’s no luck in this room,” one of the other men muttered.

I almost agreed.

We worked another ten minutes in taut silence. Doc cleaned what he could, closed what needed stitches, and wrapped the leg as securely as possible. Even with my quiet help, the damage was bad. The wolf would live. I was almost certain of that now. But recovery would be long, painful, and incomplete unless I risked more than I should.

Not with four pack wolves in the room. Not with the mate bond humming raw and furious under my skin.

Doc finally stepped back, stripping off one glove with his teeth before tossing both into the trash. “All right. He’s stable for the moment.”

The room shifted collectively; the men easing just enough to breathe.

“He needs fluids, antibiotics, pain management, and rest,” Doc continued. “And he should not be moved any farther than necessary.”

“He can’t stay here,” one of the men said immediately.

“He can if you want him alive,” Doc shot back.

Silence.

The Alpha looked from Doc to the wolf to me. His face gave nothing away now, but I could feel the effort it cost him.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Doc, practical as ever, launched into supplies and care instructions. Crate space, privacy, regular checks, restricted movement. The Alpha listened with the same hard focus he’d given everything else, committing it all to memory.

I took a step back, needing distance, needing air, needing Ivy to stop pacing inside my skull like a trapped animal.

'Mate,' she said again, softer this time. Wonderingly.

'Be quiet.'

'You felt him.'

I had. And I hated that she sounded pleased.

While Doc talked, one of the other men drifted closer to me. Blond, broad-shouldered, a little younger than the others. His gaze flicked over me, curious but not unfriendly.

“You work here?” he asked under his breath.

I gave him a flat look. “No, I just like blood.”

His mouth twitched before he caught himself. “Fair enough.”

I might have liked him under different circumstances.

The Alpha’s head turned slightly. Not enough to look at us directly, but enough to tell me he was listening. Of course he was.

Doc finished his instructions and planted his hands on his hips. “One person can stay. The rest of you need to stop crowding my exam room.”

“I’ll stay,” the Alpha said instantly. The others didn’t argue. That told me more than the title would have.

Doc nodded once. “Willow, get an IV set and prep kennel three. It’s the only one big enough.”

Kennel three was in the back, partially isolated from the others. Good for a large dog. Better for a wounded wolf that absolutely should not be here at all.

I moved before anyone could object. Space. I needed a minute without his scent in my lungs and that impossible tether under my ribs.

At the doorway, I paused just long enough to glance back. The Alpha stood at the wolf’s head, one hand resting lightly between the injured male’s ears. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but the care in that single touch was impossible to miss.

He looked up. Our eyes met. The bond gave another sharp, treacherous pull. I went cold all over.

His nostrils flared, just slightly.

'He knows,' Ivy whispered.

I tore my gaze away and stepped into the hallway. 'No. He suspects.' There was a difference.

There had to be.

Because if the Alpha of an unfamiliar pack had just walked into my clinic and discovered I was his mate, then the life I had built in Maple Glen was already over.