Rejected as Weak: The Alpha Wants Me Back

Let Me Do It

The Keller family arrived eight minutes early, and Daniel Keller answered the first question meant for his daughter.

Anya stood near the window, clipboard tucked under one arm.

"Nora, how did you sleep?"

"Not well," Daniel said. "She was up twice."

Nora's jaw tightened.

"I can answer."

She said it quietly, but the room was small enough that everyone heard.

Daniel's hand stilled on the strap of the bag he was carrying. He looked at his daughter, then back at Anya.

"Right."

Anya made a small note.

"Nora?"

"Not great. Headache around two. The pipes in the guest room kept making noise."

"Any ringing?"

"A little."

"How long?"

"Maybe ten minutes."

Daniel shifted beside her.

"It was longer than that."

Nora looked at him.

"You were asleep."

"I was in the next room."

"And?"

Daniel opened his mouth.

Anya cut in before either of them could continue.

"Ten minutes is what Nora remembers. We'll start there."

I stood near the back of the room, where I could see everyone without being in the way.

My own headache had faded to a dull pressure that morning. My hands were warm again. I was tired, but not

enough to matter unless I ignored it.

Kern was setting covered scent containers on a low table at the other end of the room.

Silas had come through ten minutes earlier, dropped off a spare medical kit, said, "Call if you need anything," and

left.

The room had been quieter after the door shut.

Greyhaven's first pilot session.

Medic.

Trainer.

Family.

Observer.

I was the observer.

Nora was sixteen, tall and sharp-boned, with dark hair tied into a knot that looked like she'd redone it twice on the

way over.

She was mixed-blood. Anya had explained before the Kellers arrived that Nora's sensory responses didn't follow a

clean enough pattern to make someone else's baseline useful.

Kern said the same thing now.

"We're not comparing you to anybody else's Shift today. Full-blood, mixed-blood, doesn't matter. We want to know

what normal looks like for you."

Nora gave a short nod.

Daniel leaned forward.

"Her normal can change quickly."

"Dad."

"I'm just telling him."

"He didn't ask you."

Daniel stopped again.

Kern waited until the silence settled.

"We're starting light. Partial Shift only. A few scents, a few sounds. You tell us what you notice and when things start

feeling wrong."

"I know."

"And you can stop."

"I know that too."

Daniel's mouth tightened.

Kern walked her through the first change.

Nora's claws came first, slender and dark at the tips. Then the angle of her jaw shifted slightly, her spine

lengthening just enough to change the way she held herself.

Not a full Shift.

Just enough to sharpen what was already there.

Kern uncovered the first container.

"Vanilla."

"Good."

The second.

"Pine."

The third took longer.

Nora leaned forward, nostrils flaring.

"Citrus."

Kern waited.

"Lemon."

"Good."

Daniel exhaled.

He'd been holding his breath.

The second round added sound.

A soft chime came from a speaker across the room while two scents remained uncovered.

Nora identified both.

Then the chime.

Her answer was right.

But she blinked twice afterward.

Daniel saw it.

"Be careful."

Nora's shoulders tightened.

She looked at Kern.

"What's next?"

Kern glanced at Anya.

Anya checked the monitor clipped to Nora's wrist.

"Still fine."

Daniel leaned toward the screen.

"What heart rate?"

"Within her range."

"How close to the upper end?"

Anya looked at him.

"I'll tell you if I need the session stopped."

Daniel sat back.

He didn't look pleased about it.

Kern prepared the next round.

"This time I want one scent and one sound together. Tell me if they stay separate."

"If they don't?"

"Tell me that too."

Nora nodded.

The scent was damp earth.

The chime came lower this time.

Nora went still.

One second.

Two.

Daniel leaned forward.

"Give her a second," I said.

It was the first thing I'd said since the session started.

Daniel looked at me.

His expression wasn't angry.

He was scared.

Not of Nora.

Of what might happen if everybody waited one second too long.

Nora swallowed.

"Damp soil."

Kern waited.

"And the chime was lower."

"Anything else?"

She hesitated.

"It's starting to layer."

Daniel's hand closed around the edge of his chair.

"A little," Nora added quickly.

Kern nodded.

"That's what I needed. Break or another round at the same level?"

"Five minutes," Daniel said.

Nora turned toward him.

"I can do another."

"Your hands are shaking."

She looked down.

They were.

Only slightly.

But enough.

For one second she looked almost offended by her own fingers.

"I'm fine."

She'd said it before anyone asked.

I looked at her.

"Nora."

Her eyes came to mine.

"Do you want five minutes or another round?"

"Another."

"That's not what I'm asking."

Her expression changed.

I waited.

"Do you want five minutes," I repeated, "or do you want another round?"

Nora looked at her father.

Then Kern.

Then down at her hands.

"Another round."

Daniel's jaw tightened.

But he stayed quiet.

Kern changed the setup.

Before he started, Anya handed Nora a small finger sensor to replace the wrist monitor during the next sequence.

Nora tried to fit it over one partially changed finger.

Her claw caught against the edge.

Daniel reached immediately.

"Let me do it."

Nora pulled her hand back.

"I can do it."

"It's catching."

"I know."

"Nora."

"I said I can do it."

Daniel's hand stayed in the air for a second before he lowered it.

Nora adjusted the sensor herself.

It took three tries.

By the time she finished, her face was red.

Kern didn't comment.

Neither did Anya.

The next round was harder.

Two scents.

A higher chime.

Nora identified the first scent.

Missed the second.

Corrected herself.

The chime sounded.

Her left eye tightened.

Kern noticed.

"How are your ears?"

"Fine."

"Any ringing?"

"No."

Daniel leaned forward.

"She's lying."

Nora's head snapped toward him.

"I'm not."

"I know what you look like when this starts."

"You know what you think it looks like."

"Nora."

"Stop doing that."

Daniel stared at her.

"Doing what?"

"Deciding."

"I haven't decided anything."

"You decided I needed a break before I answered. You decided I couldn't put on a monitor. You answer questions

before I do."

"I'm trying to keep you from ending up in medical again."

The room went still.

There it was.

Not theory.

History.

Daniel's voice lowered.

"The last time you pushed through one of these, you threw up in the hallway. You couldn't stand normal voices for three hours. You spent the night in medical because every sound hurt."

Nora looked away.

Daniel kept going.

"I watched you claw your own palm open because you couldn't make everything quiet. So yes, when your hands

start shaking, I notice."

Nora's face had gone hard.

"I notice too."

"Then why do you keep pretending you're fine?"

"Because the second I say I'm not, you take over."

Daniel stared at her.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"It feels the same."

Neither of them spoke.

Nora's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Daniel saw danger and stepped in.

Nora saw him step in and pushed back.

Then he watched her push too far and became even more certain that stepping in had been necessary.

I didn't need a name for it.

I only had to watch it happen.

Anya checked Nora's pulse again.

"You're elevated, but you're still under the stop threshold."

Kern looked at Nora.

"Do you want to pause?"

"No."

Daniel inhaled.

Nora heard it.

Her jaw tightened again.

"I want one more."

"Why?" I asked.

She looked at me.

"Because I can do it."

"That's not a reason."

Her eyes flashed.

"It is to me."

I glanced at her hands.

The tremor was still there.

"If your ears start ringing, you tell Anya."

"I will."

"If your vision changes, you tell her."

"I know."

"And if you need to stop, you stop."

Nora looked toward her father.

Daniel said, "That's enough."

"There," she snapped. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"I know your limits."

The words caught somewhere under my ribs.

I let them pass.

Nora's eyes narrowed.

"No. You know what happened last time."

"I know what you can handle."

"You know what you're scared I'll do."

Daniel pushed out of his chair.

"Nora, I am trying to protect you."

"And I'm trying to do one thing without you deciding how it ends."

Kern stepped between the argument and the exercise before either could go further.

"Enough."

Both of them looked at him.

"This is still a training session."

Then he looked at Nora.

"One controlled attempt. Same level as before. No increase."

Anya added, "Your numbers stay where they are or improve. Any sharp jump, I stop it. If you lose track of where you

are, I stop it."

Nora nodded.

"And if you notice the overload first?" Anya asked.

Nora hesitated.

"I stop it."

Anya nodded.

"Then we can try once."

Daniel looked like he hated every word of that decision.

But he didn't argue.

Kern reset the room.

Two scents.

One low chime.

Nothing extra.

Nora took a breath and settled into the partial Shift again.

For the first several seconds, she did well.

First scent.

"Cedar."

Second.

She frowned.

"Mint."

The chime sounded.

Nora flinched.

Daniel's hands closed around his knees.

He said nothing.

Nora kept going.

"Again," she told Kern.

Kern looked at Anya.

Anya checked the monitor.

"Still within threshold."

The chime sounded again.

Nora's expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Her focus simply became too sharp.

Her pupils widened.

Her nostrils flared.

Her claws pressed into the padded edge of the table.

"Nora?" Anya said.

"I'm okay."

The overhead light buzzed.

Nora jerked her head upward.

Her breathing shortened.

The cedar and mint were still open.

She sucked in another breath and immediately grimaced.

"Too much."

Kern moved toward the containers.

Nora held up a hand.

"No. Wait."

Daniel half rose.

I saw her look at him.

Then straighten.

Trying again.

Not because the exercise required it.

Because he was watching.

"Nora," I said.

She ignored me.

"The mint is—"

Her voice broke.

The chime from the speaker seemed to hit her physically.

She clapped one hand over her ear.

"The light."

Anya stepped closer.

"Nora, look at me."

"It's too bright."

Kern killed the overhead lights.

I crossed to the blinds and pulled them shut while he covered the scent containers.

The room softened almost immediately.

Daniel started toward her.

"Give her space," I said.

"She needs me."

"She can still see you."

He stopped.

That was enough.

Nora braced both hands against the table.

Her breathing came fast now.

The room was quieter.

Darker.

But the overload had already started.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

One claw tore a short line through the padded surface.

"Nora," Anya said. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Nora Keller."

"Where are you?"

"Greyhaven."

"Good. Do you want to continue?"

Daniel made a sound.

Nora heard him.

Her face tightened.

For one terrible second, I thought she was going to say yes just because he wanted her to say no.

Then she opened her eyes.

"Stop."

The word was small.

Clear.

Kern covered the last container.

Anya reached over and shut off the speaker.

"Session's over."

No one argued.

Daniel didn't say, "I told you so."

He didn't move.

Nora sagged over the table, breathing hard.

Anya stayed beside her, monitoring her pulse and talking her through one breath at a time.

By the fifth, Nora's shoulders had started to lower.

Tears slid down her face.

She wiped them away angrily.

"I thought I could finish."

"You told us when you couldn't," I said.

She shook her head.

"I still didn't finish."

"No."

I let that stand.

Then added, "But this time we stopped when you said stop."

Nora looked at me.

Daniel was standing a few feet away, pale and rigid.

"I know what happens when you push too far," he said.

Nora turned toward him.

Her eyes were red.

"So ask me."

Daniel frowned.

"What?"

"Ask me if I'm pushing too far."

"Nora—"

"Don't tell me I'm done before I answer."

Her voice was tired now, not sharp.

"Ask."

Daniel looked at his daughter for a long moment.

"I was trying to protect you."

"I know."

That seemed to surprise him more than anger would have.

Nora looked down at her shaking hands.

"But when you decide before I do, I end up trying to prove you wrong."

Daniel's face changed.

Not understanding.

Not yet.

But something had landed.

Anya wrapped a thin blanket around Nora's shoulders.

"I want you in medical for twenty minutes before you leave. Just observation."

Nora nodded.

No argument this time.

She stood.

Daniel reached automatically for the bag he'd carried in.

Nora reached for it at the same moment.

Their hands met on the strap.

Daniel looked at her.

Then let go.

Nora lifted the bag onto her own shoulder.

She took two steps toward the door, then stopped and looked back at him.

Daniel followed.

A step behind.

His hands empty.