The Alpha’s Surgeon

10

The bell above the café door jingled just as I stood to grab a refill. My cup was empty—an unacceptable situation given the morning I’d had. I was halfway to the counter when a familiar voice cut through the hum of chatter.

“Make that two,” Remi said, stepping up beside me with an easy smile.

I blinked. “You stalking my caffeine habits now?”

She chuckled softly, sliding a few bills toward the barista before I could protest. “Please. You and coffee are a public safety issue. I’m just making sure no one else gets hurt.”

That earned a laugh from me—and a quiet scoff from Trey at the table behind us that Remi completely ignored. Her focus stayed squarely on me and Del.

Remi ordered her usual, then nodded toward the pastry case. “You two already eat?”

“Sort of,” Del said, licking a smudge of powdered sugar from her thumb. “But we burned through it on our run this morning. Rae nearly killed me trying to keep up.”

I snorted. “You stopped to take selfies with Aspen.”

“Memories,” Del said with a grin. “You’ll thank me later.”

Remi smiled, amused. “That sounds like you two.” She added a couple pastries to the order, then carried the tray back toward our table. Trey and Elijah’s eyes followed her, both quiet—watchful in that Carter way—but Remi didn’t look their direction once.

When she sat down, the table felt warmer somehow, steadier. The kind of calm Remi brought without meaning to.

We fell into easy conversation—Del rambling about some podcast, me grumbling about caffeine dependence, Remi teasing us both—but halfway through my second croissant, my phone buzzed against the table. I ignored it at first—food came before whatever crisis my coworkers had cooked up—but it buzzed again. And again.

Del glanced at the screen. “Uh-oh. Work.”

I groaned and swiped it open.

MAURICE (Operations):

Rae. Supplier’s late again. Won’t release the shipment unless someone talks to them. Preferably you.

JEN (Accounting):

Please go handle it before Maurice cries.

MAURICE:

NOT TRUE but also yes please.

I stared at the screen in disbelief. “Why me? Why not you?” I demanded, waving the phone at Del.

Del didn’t even look guilty. She just shrugged with smug confidence. “Because you’re scarier and you actually get business done. They fold like wet cardboard when you show up. Meanwhile, I smile too much and they give me excuses.”

Remi raised a brow, smiling. “Scary? Rae? I’ve never seen it.”

Del burst laughing. “Oh! Because you’ve never seen her before coffee. Or the decaf Incident.”

Remi blinked. “The… what?”

I slapped my forehead. “Del. No.”

But Del was already leaning in like she was sharing sacred insider gossip. “Okay, so—Rae had this intern. Sweet kid. Great at spreadsheets. Terrible at thinking.”

“That’s generous,” I muttered.

Del continued, eyes sparkling. “He heard Rae talk about coffee addiction, freaked out, and decided it would be ‘healthier’ if he secretly gave her decaf for a whole week.”

Remi choked on a sip of her latte. “He did what?”

“Oh yeah.” Del nodded sagely. “Didn’t think through the consequences. Not even a little.”

I groaned into my hands. “I was going through withdrawal without knowing why, Remi. Withdrawal. I thought I was dying.”

Del clapped a hand on her knee laughing. “You turned into a scary gremlin. Like—full goblin-mode menace. You almost hacked HR!”

“They deserved it,” I muttered.

Remi was wheezing. “You two never told me any of this!”

“That,” Del said, wiping tears from her eyes, “is because she threatened to switch every coffee machine in the building to decaf permanently if anyone ever mentioned it again.”

I pointed a finger at her. “And I will.”

Trey, who had been pretending not to listen, murmured low enough for only Elijah to hear, “I believe it.”

Elijah nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”

Remi grinned between all of us, shaking her head. “You really are terrifying.”

“Exactly why I am not dealing with the supplier,” Del added casually, nudging her pastry toward me. “That job belongs to our caffeine-gremlin queen.”

I sighed, taking a giant bite of my croissant in resignation. “Fine. But if this supplier wastes my time—”

“—you’ll shave them?” Remi joked.

“No,” I said, standing and grabbing my phone. “But they’re about to learn what happens when someone stalls me before my third cup of coffee.”

Aspen barked in approval like my tiny furry hype man.

And honestly?

Same.

Stepping outside, the cool breeze hit them immediately, carrying the scent of wet earth and distant rain. Rae’s eyes scanned the sky, narrowed, her hand tightening slightly on Aspen’s leash. The dog’s ears perked, tail stiff, mirroring her alertness.

“Something’s coming,” Rae muttered, her voice low, almost to herself. She crouched slightly, letting Aspen sniff along the ground, tail flicking nervously. “Not a normal storm… this feels… different.”

Trey stepped closer without hesitation, his presence solid and grounding. His eyes swept over the horizon, then landed back on Rae. “You feel it too?” he asked, voice calm but sharp, attuned to every nuance of her tension.

Del paused beside Elijah, who had instinctively moved closer to her. Del’s eyes scanned the nearby streets, alert but calm, sensing what Rae did even if she hadn’t fully voiced it. Beside them, Remi folded her arms, brow furrowed, her instincts already shifting into protective mode. “We need to be ready,” she murmured, voice low. “This isn’t just weather.”

Elijah mirrored Trey’s movement, closing the distance to his mate, subtly shielding her from any potential threat. “We’re right here,” he said quietly, his hand brushing against Del’s arm in a protective gesture. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

The wind picked up, rattling the nearby café windows. Aspen growled low, a deep, throaty rumble that made the hair on Rae’s neck prickle. “It’s close,” she whispered, almost to herself, eyes narrowing as she scanned every shadow.

Trey’s hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, grounding, steadying. “Then let’s figure it out,” he said, voice calm but carrying that quiet authority only a mate could command.

Del gave Elijah a quick, sharp glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Remi’s gaze swept between the group, calculating, protective, ready to step in at the first sign of danger. They were all mates, bonded, instinctively aware. Whatever storm was coming, they would face it together—side by side, unshakable.