The Alpha Who Tried to Unmate Me

Chapter 2 – Under Clinic Lights

By the time we hit the clinic doors, the wolf on the gurney was circling the drain.

“Bay Three, now!” I snapped, jogging alongside as the orderlies shoved through the sliding glass. The scent‑bafflers hummed overhead, muting the worst of the alley stink, but my scent still clung to him like a brand.

Human receptionists pretended not to see the claws slicing the mattress. The glass between the lobby and the back corridors was frosted for a reason.

“Vitals?” I barked.

“BP dropping, heart rate unstable,” Arlen called from the other side of the gurney, already gloved. Her dark braids were shoved under a cap, green eyes sharp above her mask. “And he really doesn’t like being horizontal.”

“Join the club,” I muttered.

We swung into Bay Three. Ward lights flared bright, cool, merciless. The room smelled of antiseptic, wolfsbane, and the faint copper shadow of old magic.

“On three,” Arlen said. “One—two—”

The wolf exploded.

Not literally, though given the blood loss, it was a close thing. He surged up with a roar, muscles twisting between fur and skin, sending monitors crashing. One of the human techs yelped and stumbled back.

“Arms!” I snarled. “Get his damn arms—”

A shadow moved faster than I did. Strong fingers closed on the wolf’s shoulder, forcing him back against the mattress with controlled weight. Another hand caught his jaw, turning it away from the nearest soft human throat.

“Hold him,” Corren said, voice like iron.

Of course he’d followed us.

His forearms corded under the strain as the wolf thrashed. I could feel the alpha command riding his scent, pressing down—not a full order, just enough to make the injured male hesitate.

I shoved in beside him, bracing my knee against the rail, one palm flat over the worst gap in the wolf’s side. Hot blood soaked my glove.

“Look at me,” I said to the patient, not to the alpha at my shoulder. “Hey. Eyes here.”

For one heartbeat, three sets of eyes locked: mine, the wolf’s blown‑wide gold, and Corren’s storm‑dark just beyond.

His aura brushed mine again, tentative, like a hand testing a burned scar. The old wound in my chest flared and held.

The wolf shuddered. The fight bled out of him by inches.

“Good,” I breathed. “That’s it. Deep breaths. You’re in a safe zone. No one’s cutting anything you need.”

“Except the parts trying to kill you,” Arlen added briskly from the foot of the bed. “Liora, I’ve got sedatives ready.”

“Do it,” I said. “He’ll respond better if you push through the left carotid—watch the scar tissue.”

Arlen’s brows shot up but she didn’t argue. The needle slid in clean. The wolf’s growls faded to broken whimpers, then to harsh, ragged breaths.

Only when the monitors steadied into something less suicidal позволила* I let myself breathe.

“Restraints,” I said. “Soft. He’s half‑shifted.”

Corren eased his grip back incrementally, testing. The wolf’s head lolled, eyes fluttering. Still conscious, but the edge was dulled.

“You have this?” he asked.

I didn’t look at him. “In case you missed the sign on the door, this is literally my job.”

Arlen snorted. “Alpha Vaelir, right? Welcome to Croft Medical. Please don’t stare menacingly at the staff, we bite back.”

A corner of Corren’s mouth twitched. “Duly noted.”

Bootsteps clicked in the doorway. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you start a dominance contest in my ward.”

Dr. Melian Croft leaned on the frame, arms folded. Mid‑forties, iron‑gray streaks in her hair, eyes like ice behind rectangular glasses. In her lab coat, she looked every inch the respectable physician. The faint shimmer of old spellwork on her cuffs said otherwise.

“Doctor,” I said. “Critical case, multiple deep lacerations, probable magical contamination. And someone wrapped him in my scent on the way.”

Croft’s gaze flicked from me to the wolf, then to Corren. She didn’t bother hiding the way her nose wrinkled.

“Vaelir,” she said. “Your pack bringing me trouble already.”

“Someone is trying to pin it on my medic,” Corren replied, tone smooth. “I thought you might object.”

Croft’s eyes sharpened. “My medic?”

“She signed your forms, didn’t she?” he said. “She’s under my temporary jurisdiction per the city’s emergency protocols.”

The words hit like a cold splash. My head snapped toward him. “I didn’t agree to that.”

“You came back into my territory,” he said quietly. “In the middle of a war you don’t know yet. Jurisdiction isn’t a favor, Liora. It’s protection.”

Heat rose under my skin, part fury, part something traitorous and old. My wolf wanted to bare her throat and bite at the same time.

“I don’t need your protection,” I said. “I need whoever’s using my aura as a murder cloak found and stopped.”

“We agree,” Corren said. “Which is why you’re not stepping outside this clinic without my people within reach.”

Croft sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Wonderful. Territorial pissing in my operating theater.”

She dropped her hand and skewered us both with a look. “Fine. Alpha Vaelir, you can lurk in my corridors and glower at my security feeds. Vexen?” Her gaze softened by half a millimeter. “You’re on point for this case. And for whatever the hell is wrong with that bond scarring of yours. Because I have a sinking feeling this isn’t a one‑off.”

My stomach dipped. “You think there’ll be more?”

Croft glanced at the monitor, then back at me. “If someone learned how to weaponize a broken bond, they don’t stop at one test run.”

Corren’s hand tightened imperceptibly on the rail.

Outside the closed blinds, I could feel the city breathing. And somewhere in that sprawl, a wolf wearing my scent walked free.