ZARA:
The clinic smelled of herbs. Two warriors had been carried in, not from battle, but from the training grounds. One had a split brow, the other a nasty gash along his ribs from a fight. The training must be really intense I thought, though I kept my face calm as I gathered what I needed.
“Hold him still,” I instructed one of the recruits who’d followed them in.
The wounded warrior snarled, baring teeth like the pain wasn’t enough humiliation. “An omega telling me what to do? You’ve got the nerve, girl.”
I pressed the cloth harder against his wound, making him grunt. “If you’d rather bleed all over Dr. Barkley’s floor, be my guest. Otherwise, shut your mouth and let me work.” I don’t know where the confidence came from, but I wasn’t going to let them talk me down again.
A few snic
