Chapter 3 – Wolves in White Coats
1340 Words
The heels didn’t fit right. A little too tight around the toe, as if Rayna had broken them in but Lena’s feet didn’t belong to them. They clicked against the polished marble floors of Halcyon Medical like they knew where to go, but she didn’t.
“Dr. Vale?” A man in a white coat matched her stride, holding a tablet. “We’re finalizing the morning panel for the neuroimmunology board. You’re still co-chairing, yes?”
Lena blinked. “Yes. Absolutely. Let me just grab a coffee first.”
“Already sent to your office.” He smiled and disappeared down the hallway before she could even get his name.
Her pulse was fluttering again. Not fear. Not quite. More like she was swimming inside someone else’s memory except no one gave her the manual.
Lena marched through the elegant glass doors and into a room that exudes nothing but success. Expensive furniture, silver framed degrees and a crystal sculpture that looks like a neuron on a shelf. A digital photo frame on the desk rotated through images of her, Rayna with other professionals, awards, and one with a wolf. A real one. Midnight black, gold eyes, baring its teeth like it knew her secrets.
“Doctor,” came a soft knock.
A young nurse with auburn hair walked in, holding a clipboard to her chest like a lifeline. “Just confirming, you’ll be reviewing the Alpha decay files before rounds? You asked to see the full series.”
“I did,” Lena said carefully. “Can you just remind me where we keep them?”
The nurse’s eyes narrowed, only for a second. “Secure Archive. Lower level. Biometric access only.”
“Right,” Lena murmured, offering a tight smile. “Thank you, um…”
“Peyton.”
“Of course. Thanks, Peyton.”
Immediately the nurse left, Lena sat gently on the office chair. Her sweaty hands grabbed the arm seat as if she may fall. The computer before her reflected Rayna’s sharp jawline, cheeks, sculpt lips and gray eyes that do not blink that oftenly. She could fake it. She had to.
She pulled open the desk drawer. Inside was a badge labeled “Dr. Rayna Vale – Neuro-X Lead” and a velvet-lined case containing a sleek biometric ring. Sliding it on felt like snapping handcuffs over her own wrist.
Downstairs, the Secure Archive felt colder than the rest of the hospital. The lighting hummed low, the security scanner blinking red until she pressed her finger and placed her palm on the reader.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Rows of digital files blinked to life. She searched for "Alpha Neurological Decay." Dozens of folders popped up. She picked the most recent batch.
The screen is populated with dense reports, scan results, and brainwave patterns.
Then her eyes froze on a name: Blackwood, Damon.
Lena's stomach growls, and before she could open the file, the intercom buzzed loudly.
“Dr. Vale, your first consultation is ready. Conference Room 9. Alpha decay, primary patient. The staff will meet you there.”
She stared at the name glowing on the screen again.
Damon.
No last initial. No photo. But she knew. Every cell in her stolen body screamed recognition.
In Conference Room 9, a group of doctors already sat at the oval table, nodding politely as she entered. A man near the head seat stood and gestured for her to take it.
“Let’s begin. Patient 091: Blackwood, Damon. Advanced cognitive dissonance, incomplete neural regeneration, disassociative tendencies in Alpha form.”
The words were clinical, cold. Her hands trembled as she clicked through the file open on the table’s central screen.
There it was, the patient's Photo: Damon. He is older and more hollowed. His jaw was more defined, but something behind his eyes looked fractured.
“The last incident was three weeks ago,” another doctor continued. “Non-verbal, violent outburst mid-transformation. Responded to partial sedation only. Pack compliance has deteriorated. Council flagged him as ‘Red Zone risk.’”
Lena’s ears rang.
Another voice, male, sharp: “You’re his primary now, Dr. Vale. You’ve worked with dominant Alpha cases before. He’s your responsibility starting today.”
They all stared at her, expecting nothing short of brilliance and perfection. Insight. Authority.
Lena nodded her head, her lips parted with a breath she did not remember holding.
“I’ll need time to study his baseline. I want full access to his historical scans, pre- and post-event markers, and direct observation clearance,” she said, surprised by how steady she sounded.
The sharp-voiced man nodded. “You’ll have everything. Just don’t let him break another doctor. Or a wall.”
The meeting broke up. People filtered out, murmuring quietly about the afternoon consults. Lena stayed behind, staring at Damon’s face on the screen.
The last time she saw him, he’d been downgrading her to his Beta, saying how much he hates her and how she is just a pawn in his game.
She leaned closer, studying the scan. The notes described his decline like it was something technical. A damaged weapon. Not a man. Not someone she—
No.
She hadn’t survived to fall apart now.
Peyton met her in the hall. “Dr. Vale, there’s a visitor asking for you. Says he’s with the Pack Research Liaison office.”
Lena blinked. “What’s his name?”
“He didn’t give one. Just said you’d understand.”
Her pulse kicked. She followed Peyton to the front reception, where a tall man in a slate suit waited, hands folded. He had the lean build of a predator trying to look civilized.
“Dr. Vale,” he said, voice smooth as polished steel. “Glad to see you back on your feet.”
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, but I know your work. And I know your patient.” He smiled thinly. “Some of us are interested in Damon Blackwood’s condition… beyond medical curiosity.”
Lena’s breath hitched. “You’re with the Council?”
“Something like that.”
He handed her a black envelope, unmarked. “You’ll want to read this before you speak to him. Damon’s more than a patient now. He’s a key.”
“To what?”
The man’s eyes gleamed. “To war. Or peace. Depends on who gets to him first.”
Then he turned and vanished into the crowd of patients and visitors.
Back in her office, Lena slit the envelope open with a scalpel. Inside was a single page.
On the top page: BLACKWOOD DAMON, CLASSIFIED. THRESHOLD INCIDENT IN PACK, LEVEL 6
And on the down, a particular line caught her attention and stuck to her brain: DON'T TRUST HIM AT ALL.
Lena stared back at the photo on her table. Damon, caught mid-glare, wildness just below the surface.
Her hand hovered over the call button to summon his file again. She needed to know more. She needed to see him.
But first, she opened her drawer again. Inside, beneath the photo frame, was a small black USB. She had no memory of putting it there, but Rayna clearly had.
Plugging it into her computer, she waited as a single video file was decrypted. The title read: IF I DIE OR FORGET – WATCH THIS FIRST
She clicked play. Rayna appeared on the screen, eyes wide, voice shaking.
“If you’re seeing this, I’m gone. They got to me. You’re in my body, and he’s your patient now. Damon Blackwood. He’s not what he seems. None of them are.”
She sat in awe as Rayna spoke with a trembling voice.
“No matter what happens, do not… I repeat, do not fall for him. Not again.”
The screen cut to black and the hospital intercom crackled overhead:
“Dr. Vale, your 4 p.m. Alpha consult has arrived. Damon Blackwood is in Room Twelve.”
Lena stood slowly, pulse thundering in her ears.
Damon was here.
And she was the only one who knew, He used to be hers.
- Writer
